A Confession of Pain
by WhosSeenJezebel
Summary: SEQUEL TO FLYNN. When former members of a violent crime ring start showing up on the front porch of police stations across the United States, Prentiss immediately knows who's responsible. She enlists the help of the team to travel across the country in hopes of tracking down a very desperate Unsub. (H/P-established)
1. Ég er Tík

**A/N: I own absolutely nothing but a couple of OC's. Criminal Minds is not mine, as sad as that makes me.**

 **This is a sequel to the story I just completed, "Flynn". You will be a bit lost if you don't read that one first! I'm continuing with the Molly Prentiss (Emily's sister-in-law) storyline. I hope you guys enjoy it! I love writing this.**

 **To clear up some concerned (and vaguely threatening) messages I've received in my inbox: I am not planning on pairing Molly up with anyone on the team. She is not there for romance. It would be a really odd factor to add to her character, so I most certainly do not plan on sinking anyone's established "ships". That being said, this is a young story so things often change with requests and prompts. If I plan on veering off in a particular ROMANTIC direction, I promise to give fair warning.**

 **Hotch and Prentiss are obviously Canon in this story, because...seriously they're perfect.**

 **WARNING: THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SOME GRAPHIC THEMES. Nothing horrible, but a little gory.**

 **/**

 **Lake Elsinore, California**

Though she had traveled through warm territories throughout her childhood, she never really cared for the heat. She didn't like to sweat and her hair would only behave if pulled into a ponytail. Humidity was at eighty-five percent to top it off, so breathing would be out of the question.

Wasn't it supposed to cold in February?

She turned on the engine for a moment, relishing to semi-cool air that blasted against her damp face for a few moments before shutting it off again.

It would be getting dark soon. The sky was beginning to turn a salmon color with streaks of yellow and pink. The heat didn't subside unfortunately, but at least the sun wasn't directly overhead anymore.

Just as she was going to start the car again, a black sedan sped around the corner into the parking lot of the laundry mat she had been scouting for six hours.

"About damn time." She groaned as she climbed out of her Wagoneer, her legs were tingling from disuse and the muscles in her back were twitching. After a cursory look at her surroundings, she pulled her knife out and greeted the gentleman just as the driver's side door opened. "Good evening Hamilton."

He was a thin man with a blonde bowl cut that even a five year wouldn't look good with. He swallowed when he saw the woman at the other end of the knife held to his throat.

Oh yes. He recognized her.

/

 **F.B.I., Behavioral Analysis Unit**

 **Quantico, Virginia**

If there was anything that Spencer Reid absolutely abhorred, it was down time.

The week before, they had two cases. A kidnapping in Chicago followed by a string of murders in Florida. The week before that, they spent five days in Maine searching for a man who had called in a series of bomb threats to the local elementary schools. He turned out to just be a racist eighty-year old who missed the days of integration. He didn't have any bombs, just a loud mouth and an unloaded rifle.

It had been a month since they rescued Emily from Remi Gusev. Other than a busted lip and a few cuts and bruises, she was fine. Prentiss had been through far more treacherous situations-case in point, Ian Doyle-but since getting home, she had been on edge.

They all knew why, but they chose not to bring it up until they received some sort of lead. But Molly Prentiss was a hard woman to track down.

"What are you doing?" JJ's amused voice came from behind him.

Reid turned in his desk chair and held up the model he had constructed out of paperclips and rubber bands. "It's a Tesseract." He said, delighted with his creation. "Well, a 4D Hyper prism version of one. Some models are made with and extra layer on the inside, but given this medium I could only do the two."

JJ opened her mouth to offer some sort of a response, but found that there wouldn't be one suitable enough. So she settled for chuckling and shaking her head. "Looks great Spence." She patted his shoulder and plopped down into Derek's vacated chair. She glanced casually at Prentiss who had been sitting in the same position for nearly an hour.

She was leaned back in her seat, chewing on the end of her pen and staring blankly at her computer, which had switched to power-save mode twenty minutes ago.

It was a familiar look. One that they had all seen quite frequently over the past few weeks.

"She's okay." JJ assured her, poking her leg with the toe of her boot.

Emily jumped-dropping her pen in the process-and swiveled her chair to face the other agents. Reid had even set down his beloved Tesseract to back JJ up.

Noting the look of confusion, the blonde continued. "She probably went back into hiding. Some of those people are still out there."

Prentiss gave her a tight smile and nodded. The reassurances did nothing. She knew Molly was safe. It would take an almost supernatural force to take her down. _That_ was what bothered her. She would more than likely never see her again because nothing would stop her long enough to make that happen.

After a few minutes, JJ was summoned by Garcia and Spencer got to work on building another multi-dimensional model. It was when Emily was sure that their attention was off of her that she jiggled her mouse.

 _'Unconscious Man Found Outside of Mackinaw City Police Department'_ the article on her screen read. It had been published two days before and had been big news for the tiny village in Michigan. She clicked on one of the related links in the sidebar.

 _'John Doe Identified as Killer'_ The choppy writing of a small town reporter was excusable considering the content. The man's name had been Arthur Canelli.

If Emily's memory served her correctly, he had been the son of Paul Canelli who had been one of the founders of Red Card. Arthur had been one of Gusev's closest confidants and literal partner in crime.

He had been found handcuffed to the railing outside of the police department with one arm removed and a note pinned to his jacket. _To Italy, with love._

To the citizens of Mackinaw City, this man's rap sheet simply read the same as any other Italian affiliated with the mob. They knew nothing of Red Card; otherwise there might have been more news.

A similar article from a few days before had initially been what caught her eye.

This time it was an older Russian man. The nephew of Domnin, another founder. He had been outside of a courthouse in Northern Washington State. He hadn't been bound, but there was no need. His feet had been removed.

These men had been living under aliases. American names like Doug and Cam had been their monikers for decades. But their green cards, the original ones they had been issued upon arrival to the United States, had been shoved in their wallets in front of their fake ID's.

The person who did this had resources. They had a way of finding things that only Penelope Garcia could find. They had extensive medical knowledge, made evident by the tourniquets tied to the criminals to ensure that they wouldn't bleed out. They had covert training, as no one had ever seen the delivery of the men.

Emily chewed on her thumb nail, wincing as she came to the same conclusion she had come to before.

Molly.

/

 **Irwindale City Police Department**

 **California**

Hamilton Grady (born Neal Perrigan), had to be one of her more greasy conquests. It was obvious that he didn't take advantage of the copious variety of American shampoo and his foul breath could be detected from the very back of the Wagoneer. After only an hour of driving her entire vehicle reeked of cheddar cheese and beer.

The red doors of the gorgeous building that held Irwindale's finest had been closed for ten minutes. Nobody had come in or out. It was obvious that this wasn't a high crime area.

She waited another five minutes before hopping out of the car and hurrying to collect her loot from the trunk.

/

 **Virginia**

Prentiss hesitated for only a moment before lifting her hand to knock.

The bubbly blonde tech analyst spun in her chair and flashed a smile. "I see I got my morning dose of beautiful a little early!" She crooned with a wink. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Not wanting to cut to the chase too soon, especially after Garcia's sweet greeting, Emily returned her beam and kept her notebook at her side. "I just wanted to see what you had going on." She said, sitting on the edge of the desk that sat to the left of the myriad of screens. "It's kind of dull out there."

"Oh same old, same old." Penelope turned back to her monitor and resumed her fast-paced typing. "Just sorting through some old case files, making sure everything is where it needs to be, lest we need them in the not so near future."

Emily bit her lip and arched her brows. "You don't say."

"What do you need my love?" Garcia could sense the disease in her friend's voice.

Sighing, Prentiss dropped the notebook by her mouse pad. "Only when you get a chance-"

"I have a chance now." Penelope waved her off. "What do you need?"

"I'm searching for cases similar to these." Emily pointed to the tiny list of two as she continued to gnaw on her lip.

Garcia typed the first case number into the system and let out a rush of air when the footless man appeared on her screen. "Oh my." She cleared her throat and read the report with furrowed brows. "Who is he?"

"He's a former Red Card member." Emily replied, pointing to the second name. "So is he."

It took Penelope a moment to register what the agent was telling her. "Molly?" She swallowed, "Did Molly do this?"

"It's a possibility."

"Oh...Oh my." She repeated the phrase, popping a lime lollipop in her mouth before going back to her search. "I'll see what I can find."

"Okay, thank you." Emily patted her shoulder and stood up. "And if we can keep this-"

"Between us, yes!" Penelope waved her sucker in the air like a magic wand. "My lips are sealed my pretty!"

Prentiss thanked her again and stepped back into the hall leading to the bullpen. She hated keeping secrets, but there was no need to alert the team to her suspicions until she was absolutely sure.

/

 **Interstate 10 East**

She would need to stop for gas soon. She grimaced, at the red arrow as it slowly crept its way towards the little 'E' on her dash.

New Mexico was still over six hours away and she had already filled up twice. If she had the time, she'd probably search for a hybrid or something else to drive in the interest of time as well as comfort. The air conditioning was beginning to kick it and the driver's side window was still refusing to roll down all the way. She was lucky it was running at all after the wreck.

Her eyes were staring longingly at a Car Dealership just off of the interstate when a voice startled her.

"How many more mommy?"

She cleared her throat and looked to the boy curled up in the passenger seat. His eyes were heavy with sleep and his messy curls stuck up on all ends.

"Not many, Flynn." She assured him, patting his knee. "Now buckle your seatbelt."


	2. Ég er Elskhugi

**/**

 **"Most women defend themselves. It is the female of the species-it is the tigress and lioness in you-which tends to defend when attacked."**

 **-Margaret Thatcher**

/

"Emily! Emily! Emily!"

Prentiss was just putting on her coat when the frantic whispers came from the back hallway. She turned to see the bright orange and purple blur of Penelope Garcia running her way.

Knowing what this was regarding, she gave a surreptitious gesture to Aaron-who had just stepped onto the catwalk-telling him that she'd need a moment. She led the other woman into the vacant conference room.

"What's going on?" She demanded as soon as the door was closed.

"Molly Prentiss has been very busy! If in fact this is being done by Molly Prentiss." Penelope still kept her voice hushed, in case a nosey onlooker from the bullpen decided to listen in. She placed her iPad on the table between them and began to scroll through case files. "On top of the two men you found, there are an additional four. One in North Dakota, one in Idaho, and two in California; one of which was discovered this morning."

Emily's jaw dropped as she looked at each case. All older me-two Irish, one Russian, and one Italian. They had to be Red Cards. She looked to Garcia, almost helplessly.

The tech took pity on her and rubbed her arm. "If it helps, these are all really bad guys. I mean like, super villains." She pulled up the most recent man's rap sheet. "This guy alone has nineteen murders under his belt, two of which were children. And the dude in North Dakota was a rapist. Molly was kind enough to amputate an extra appendage below the waist if you catch my drift."

At the moment, the humor of it all was in one ear and out the other. Prentiss shook her head, resisting the urge to start chewing her nails again. "How is it that no one has seen the connection?" She asked. "I mean, skilled criminals being dropped off with body pieces cut off isn't small news."

"It is when it happens in a small town." Garcia pulled up the list of cities. "She's been dropping them off in locations with very low populations and little foot-traffic."

Calculating once in her head and then again with her fingers, Emily looked around the room as she concluded, "About two a week. She's getting two a week."

"Yes exactly!" Garcia went to the US map on the far wall and gestured to the states as she spoke. "And it appears that she is working her way along the outer United States as of now. So the South West should be next."

Emily came to a decision. She had to do what was best for Molly at this point. She was obviously in a state of shock from Flynn's death and her actions could possibly end in her own demise. She needed help.

For some reason she checked her watch. It didn't matter what the time was, they needed to act fast. She hurried to the door and swung it open. Hotch was still leaning against the rail outside of his office, flipping through a case file, but he looked up when she stepped out.

"We need to call the team back in."

/

 **Magdalena, New Mexico**

She smirked at the sight of the once beautiful woman making her way across the road only a few feet away from her car.

Sasha Tychkin was always so rude to her. She would look down on Molly, calling her names and threatening to steal Nick out from under her-as though that would have done her more harm than good. Sasha was nasty and cold. She killed men who so much as looked at her the wrong way.

As the only woman in The Red Card, she held a lot of power in her day.

But now, she was just another chubby middle-aged spinster getting by in a sweltering desert town. Her hair was bleached at the ends and dark near her scalp, as though she had run out of the funds to keep up with the flaxen look. Her skin was splotchy and she had tripled in size over the past decade.

"Oh, Sasha." She chuckled, watching the Russian woman enter her apartment building. "You look terrible."

/

"How have we not seen anything on this?" Morgan asked the obvious question after Prentiss and Garcia briefed them. "No news coverage, nothing."

"She's been lucky." Was Emily's simple response. In reality, it was the only thing that could explain the press' ignorance to what was happening across the country. "Or she knows exactly what she's doing. Dropping the criminals off in small towns with even smaller press circuits."

Reid set down the crime scene photos he had been studying carefully. "If this is Molly, she's using a lot more caution than she did with Gusev." He commented. "She's removing the limbs with a lot more precision, even tying tourniquets to ensure her victims don't bleed out."

"They're not victims." JJ was quick to correct. "They're killers, rapists."

Though no one could really disagree with her, Hotch still had to play the role of Unit Chief. "Be that as it may, we can't condone vigilante justice." He gave Emily an apologetic look before moving on. "It's not her responsibility to track these people down and it's definitely not her job to dismember them."

"No, it's her job to kill them." Prentiss said firmly.

Everyone, even JJ, gave her nearly identical incredulous looks.

"Revenge is not a job qualification." Rossi told her, keeping his voice empathetic. "I mean, we were able to write off Gusev's injuries as self defense for Molly's sake, but this is taking it a little far." He held up the man from North Dakota's photograph. All of the men winced at the sight of blood on his crotch.

Knocking the picture down, Emily sat up in her chair and rested her elbow on the table. "No, she's well within her jurisdiction." She insisted gesturing to Garcia. "Show them."

Penelope giddily poked a few buttons on her tablet, sending them all of the documents she had discovered while they were waiting for the team to arrive. "You'll have to look at mine Reid." She said, sliding the iPad across the table. "Can't have a paper trail."

Spencer wrinkled his nose with a mixture of confusion and distaste as he picked up the tablet and began reading.

"You have to be kidding me." Derek was the first one to realize what they were looking at. "This isn't real."

"As real as you and me." Emily assured him.

"Molly, the Molly we all met." Morgan pointed to the picture on the big screen. It was one that had been taken when Molly was pregnant. Her red hair was longer then and her smile was almost carefree. "That Molly is an assassin?"

"She doesn't like that word." Prentiss cringed. "But yes. She was hired by the CIA straight out of the academy. She had a particular skill set that they found desirable."

"She was only nineteen." JJ gasped, lifting her eyes to her friend's. "She was a professional killer when she was still a teenager?"

"It needed to be done."

"Somehow I doubt that." Morgan didn't want to snap at Emily, but it was late. And it was Friday. Learning that they had spent days with someone who had been hired by their government to kill was almost maddening.

Hotchner, who had been quietly reading Molly's file finally looked up. "She's still under contract?" It was more of a statement than anything else, but he still looked to Emily for an answer. When she nodded, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So we have no legal reason to intercede."

"Are you serious?" Morgan practically shouted. "Hotch we can't-"

Prentiss held up her hand before he could go on with his rant. "We do need to stop her." She said. "She's not well. She's mourning for her son and acting out of rage. The press not catching on has been a blessing, but it's only a matter of time. When this hits the papers, the people on her list are going to catch wise and be ready for her."

"Physically, she seems quite capable of defending herself." Reid said pointing to another photograph. "A few of the men she took down were nearly three times her weight."

"She won't be able to hold up against their guns." Emily reminded him. "If they team up and ambush her, she wouldn't stand a chance."

When she turned her pleading brown eyes his way, Hotch knew he was doomed. He had already been weighing their options, but the desperation in her gaze settled it. "Garcia, run all the names through the system and cross reference them with Gusev and Nick Prentiss. We should be able to find out who's on her list." He tried to summon up an apologetic look for his team, but it still came across as quite stoic. "Wheels up in twenty."

/

Three hours outside of Magdalena, she found a motel just off the interstate. It was the kind of seedy establishment that obviously didn't think twice about their patrons paying in only cash.

Her body was weary and her head ached but she would only allot a few hours for rest. There were a total of five targets in Texas, and possibly one in Mexico. It was going to be a long couple of weeks and she wouldn't waste time by getting to comfortable.

"Sleep when you're dead." Her father said it as though he had coined the phrase. And when she was a child, she believed he was a genius so she assumed it was his personal philosophy. But despite the saying being overused and worn-out, she still allowed herself to keep it in mind when she was on a mission.

The fact was, she would have time to sleep. And she wouldn't have to wait for the sweet release of death to get it. No, when this was all over-when she finished her job-she was going to buy a penthouse in Manhattan and sleep for 72 hours.

And the bed there was going to be a hell of a lot better than the one that greeted her in the seedy motel room right outside of Tucumcari, New Mexico.

Maybe if she was any other worn out traveler, she would have been put off by the musky odor and dust layered furniture. But Molly Prentiss was exhausted.

Her black clothes did well to hide the blood that had soaked them after days of haphazard amputations performed in deserted rest stops and riverbeds in the deep woods. But she could feel the weight of the dried liquid against her flesh. She felt grimy enough having gone without a shower for three weeks, but the added factor of Red Card blood seeping into her pores made her toes curl and her gut clench.

When she peeled off the long-sleeved shirt she nearly vomited at the crimson and brown colors that coated the skin surrounding her bra. The removal of her pants and shoes revealed the same thing. She almost looked like she had gotten a terrible spray tan in New Jersey back alley.

She wrinkled her nose, balled up the soiled clothing, and sorted them into the two vanity sinks that sat outside the bathroom. Turning on each faucet with the red dot, she let the water turn hot before pulling up the drain stops to let the bowls fill up.

Maybe soaking them overnight would get most of the stink out. She had plenty of spare clothes for now, but her list was long. She didn't want to throw anything out unless she absolutely had to.

There was a bar of soap sitting between the sinks. Molly decided it was better than nothing. She unwrapped it, placed it in one of the plastic shower caps in the complimentary basket, and slammed the heal of her boot against it until the soap was crushed into a fine white powder. She divvied it out into each sink and mixed the clothes around in the scalding water until there was a layer of bubbles covering the surface.

"Becky Home-Ecky." She chuckled to herself, removing her undergarments as she walked towards the shower.

/

"I told Strauss that we discovered the links to the crimes due to an anonymous tip." Hotch began briefing the team when the jet was somewhere near Alabama. "I told her it was an interstate spree, making it our jurisdiction. She gave us the go ahead because of the lull we're having. I did not tell her that Molly was involved. We'll just be surprised when she turns up."

The group nodded their assent. The Section Chief had been a little more than livid after the events with Gusev, but considering what they had gone through, she was merciful for the most part. She even granted Emily a week's bereavement for the loss of the nephew she never knew. Prentiss ended up coming in three days into the leave. Her time would be better spent catching people like Gusev and protect children. Like Flynn.

They would land in Arkansas. The men that would be next on her list would be scattered between Little Rock and Mexico, so the team was going to split up and follow those paths.

Garcia had joined them for this particular venture. Her skills at finding the UN-findable would definitely come in handy when searching for the elusive woman. And also, she was dying for the opportunity to meet a real-live CIA Assassin. As much as she hated the death and depravity that they dealt with on a day-to-day basis, the idea of someone being paid to kill the bad guys-no questions asked-was pretty wicked cool.

At the moment though, Penelope was more than a little miffed. She was a woman who prided herself on uncovering even the most reclusive human beings' dirty little secrets. But searching through the history of one Molly Prentiss (nee Briggs), was proving to be one of the more trying tasks in ten plus years of working for the BAU.

"She didn't exist! She didn't exist!" She insisted, pushing her laptop away from herself on the tabletop. The group all looked up from their respective files and conversations as she continued to rant. "This woman was created in a lab when she was eighteen. That's the only explanation for it. When we find her, I will lift up her shirt and show you that she does not have a belly button, because she was never born!"

If they hadn't been searching for her endangered sister-in-law, Emily would have laughed at the outburst. Penelope Garcia rarely got this flustered, but when it happened it was certainly a sight to behold.

"There has to be something Baby Girl." Derek leaned over from the seat beside Garcia's and pulled the computer in between them so he could watch her search.

"There isn't! I'm sorry but there isn't!"

Hotch looked to Prentiss and felt his brow furrow when he saw the serious contemplation in her blank stare. "What can you tell us?"

He had asked it quietly, but everyone's attention was drawn to their seats. Reid even stood from the couch and wandered over to them with his hands shoved in his pockets. The young man was obviously trying to act casual, but Emily knew that his purpose was to profile. If there was anyone she would allow to study her though, it was Spencer.

She nibbled on her lip before sighing and holding her arm out across the aisle. Derek understood the gesture and quickly passed the laptop over to her.

Aaron peered over her shoulder as she pulled up a files from not only the CIA but also from The Pentagon, The Department of Homeland Security, and The Department of Defense. Her fingers flew over the keys in speed that could only rival Garcia's. Before he could even see where she was getting the files from, she had at least twenty tabs opened and when she was finished, a birth certificate was in the first window.

"You stumbled upon this by mistake." She said evenly, handing the computer back to the Morgan.

Penelope's mouth opened in question, but when her eyes drifted back to the screen, her jaw dropped entirely. Spencer climbed on his knees in the seat behind the analyst and read over her shoulder, absorbing the information with a pensive stare.

After only a few minutes, the practically unflappable Reid sat up and turned to Emily with wide eyes. "Why didn't you tell us?"

His tone wasn't accusing or even hurt. It was just stunned.

Emily bit the corner of her lower lip before winding her jaw as she tried to think of an appropriate answer. It wasn't her intention to keep these things from her team, but the matters of Molly's past had always been dicey. For the younger woman's protection, she never said a word about her occupation and what led to it. Even after she'd wedded Nicholas and went on a self-prescribed sabbatical, she kept quiet. It was about keeping Flynn safe from harm as well at that point.

Before she could put these sentiments in words, Derek spoke up. He had read the over enough of the documents to get a general idea by that point. "This goes a lot deeper than the CIA." He said in disbelief. "This is international."

"To a certain degree." Emily dropped her shoulders and sighed.

Hotch, knowing that he'd get the full story-or most of it at least-when he was alone with Emily, looked to his team. JJ and Rossi had moved from their respective seats in the back to try to get a peak at Penelope's computer, so he didn't have to speak too loudly.

"You all know as well as I do that we don't want any CIA involvement in this case. And that goes for other agencies also, international or otherwise." He said, keeping his voice calm. The last thing he wanted to do was put his people (Emily in particular) at disease. "So we need to handle this as calmly as possible. Our priority is getting Molly and bringing her in. We'll worry about the rest later."

He eyed the computer warily. He could have ordered to see it right then and there, but bit his tongue. This was one of the rare cases where it seemed that the less he knew the better. No matter what Emily had just revealed, his objective going out was retrieving Molly and that wasn't going to change.

Clutching Prentiss' hand under the table in quiet support, he swallowed hard.

 _Please don't let this be a mistake._


	3. Ég er Barn

_/_

 _The ground slid beneath her feet as she ran. Sometimes it was the snow and sometimes it was loose rocks. She didn't stumble though. Not once did she give herself time to fall._

 _She had seen pictures of them. Her father showed her in one of his books. A helicopter. It was right above her head, blowing dead leaves off of the trees and whipping her hair across her face. The book didn't mention how loud it was-how horribly loud._

 _Her shoes went deep into some mud that had begun to thaw overnight. They stuck, preventing her from moving forward. She hesitated only a moment before yanking each foot free of its confines and continuing her run across the cold ground with bare feet. It wasn't too bad. At least there weren't any thorns this time of year._

 _Gray rocks appeared when she got to the clearing by the river. It was the base of the mountain she had climbed with Mr. Barry the week before. They hadn't gone up too high, but she at least knew where to go from there._

 _The incline was steep and her feet didn't want to find their purchase without the support of the boots she'd been wearing before. Soon, she made it to the cairn-that was what Mr. Barry had called the rocky top of the hill. She caught her breath and wrung her hands in front of her, all the while trying to figure out what to do next._

 _The helicopter had disappeared when she got near the mountain. It seemed to want to avoid the high trees and rocky cliffs. She smiled with relief when for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was nothing but silence surrounding her._

 _Her scream was what ultimately destroyed the calm._

 _It was brought on when she saw the men. Appearing from behind the rocks and repelling down from the cliffs above. They wore masks and black clothes. Their coats were thick, so she had a hard time determining just how big they are._

 _When the closest one to her, moved forward to grab her arm, she snatched his hand from the air and twisted it._

 _His pained shouts almost covered up the bones cracking in her delicate grasp._

 _As soon as his defense was down, she jabbed the heel of her foot into his hip and then the side of his knee before shoving him hard against a pile of jagged just behind him._

 _A second man tried to apprehend her, but she wrenched her arm away and jumped up to kick his shoulders with both of her feet. He toppled backwards but before she could do any more harm, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and yanked her away._

 _She moved to elbow him in the throat, but felt a sharp sting in the side of her neck. Her body suddenly felt very heavy and her eyelids began to pull shut._

 _"She's covered in blood."_

 _The shout came from somewhere above her, she didn't have the strength to look for the source._

 _"Whose is it?"_

 _"It could be any of theirs."_

 _"Let's just get her out of here."_

 _That was the last thing she heard before the darkness consumed her._

 _/_

Reid was placed in charge of reading the files that detailed Molly Prentiss' life leading up to present day. He was the fast reader and his Eidetic Memory ensured that he'd relay the information to his team verbatim.

As he sat in the conference room of the Little Rock Police Station though, he began to regret his current job.

Nothing about this woman's life was easy. From the day she was born, she was burdened with things no child should ever have to face.

But in the long run, it was helping him understand Molly's reasoning. Her rampage, for the lack of a better word, was suddenly a little bit more reasonable. Now he knew why she was able to do what she did and how she was capable of so much more.

And while it gave him plenty of insight, it also terrified him.

This was one of America's most dangerous assets and she had been pushed to her breaking point. How far was this going to go?

/

When they heard the news about Sasha Tychkin, Prentiss, Hotch, and JJ wasted no time. They immediately jumped into one of the two SUV's they'd rented and sped down Interstate 40 before they even had their seatbelts on.

From what they could tell, there were five or six former Red Cards residing in Texas. Given Molly's pattern, she would be heading there next, but they couldn't be positive where her first stop would be.

Morgan and Rossi were going to take the other vehicle and headed towards Van Horn while Hotch's crew went to Skellytown.

Her path could have been starting in the North in Skellytown and working its way down, or she could have gone south from New Mexico to Van Horn. The latter would have been a shorter drive to her next location, but the former would make more sense sequentially-it would have been a straight shot down the giant state from there. Then she would conquer Mexico.

"Just how dangerous is she?" JJ asked from the backseat, glancing up from the file in her lap to look at Emily. "She didn't seem violent at all when we were with her."

Of course, she had seen evidence to the contrary when they wheeled an armless Gusev from the shed in his backyard. But prior to that, Molly had seemed to be just any other mother who was scared for her missing child. Not overly aggressive, but assertive. She wasn't strong-arming the team or insisting that she take the lead, but she was willing to help with whatever needed to be done. If anything, she went above and beyond.

"She's not dangerous at all." Prentiss was chewing on her thumbnail. Hotch had gently pulled the digit away from her teeth when they had just gotten on the interstate, but somehow it had found its way back to its doom. "She's never been _dangerous_."

"Emily, she's an assassin." Aaron reminded her, taking his eyes from the road just long enough to throw her a leery glance.

He had read what he could from the papers that Reid had printed out before they left the station. Molly had killed more people in two years than he had throughout his entire career. She never used a gun. Of course, she had been issued one and it accompanied her on every mission, but not once did she fire it. She instead preferred knives, blunt instruments, and when all else failed, her own hands.

She killed the people that the government didn't want to deal with. Criminals who were too dangerous-too vile-were assigned to a nineteen year old girl with red braids and a yellow Jansport backpack.

Sure, the Unsubs he dealt with day in and day out were far more vicious than this young woman. They killed, they mutilated, and they were cold blooded. But Molly was given the green light to do what she did.

The government asked...no...They demanded that she be as violent as possible. Don't ask questions. Don't look the family in the eye as you slit dad's throat at the dinner table. Don't take the little girl to the police station after you break mom's neck in at the playground. Do what needs to be done and move on to the next name.

"She's a human being." Emily insisted. "I have seen firsthand that she is human. She did what she was told, just like we do. She knows what she does is wrong, but in the end she did what she had to in order to get by."

"She's not a defense attorney, she's a contract killer." He wanted to laugh at her flippant reply. "I have no doubt that she was manipulated into her career. It's not hard to believe given her background. But we can't overlook what she's done these past few weeks." He gestured to the pile of photos Emily had been flipping through. The men, and now one woman, all cut up and left bleeding and suffering.

Sure, they were all horrendous people with rap sheets as long as his arm, but Molly apprehended them outside of the law. Well, the law he was aware of. Every day he found out something new about the America that was kept from them.

"But they're not dead!" Emily rolled her eyes and shook her head as soon as the words left her mouth. There was a right way and a wrong way to explain things to her dour boss-slash-boyfriend. And she was dancing towards the wrong way. _Be a profiler dammit._ She scolded herself. _Do your job!_

She cleared her throat and continued, half turning in her seat so that she could address JJ also. "This woman has been ordered for as long as she can remember to kill. At one point in time, her livelihood _depended_ on it." Prentiss held up the photographs. "But look at these people! Sure, they're dismembered, and that's horrible, but she tied tourniquets on them. She made sure that they _didn't_ die."

"Well, yeah." JJ really wanted to take her friend's side on this, but she felt that she had to point out the obvious. "She wanted them to suffer. All of these people are going to be extradited to their own countries and placed into barbaric prisons. It's cruel."

"It's sadistic." Hotch interjected.

For a moment, Prentiss was at a loss for words. Were these really her two closest friends? Her allies? Why the hell hadn't she gone with Morgan? At least his skepticism didn't stab her in the back. It was expected from him.

"They were bloodthirsty criminals!" She reminded them. "Paul Canelli killed his entire family and burnt their house down because the cops were onto him. Neal Perrigan raped thirteen girls at UCLA and killed four of them. None of them got more than they deserved!"

When she saw Hotch's shoulders relax, she went on. "I'm not trying to justify her actions. But there is no way that we'll save her if we have any doubt in our minds going into it. She's a profiler just like us." She shook her head and bit her lip. "She's grieving and she's not in the right frame of mind, so she's doing what seems right. She needs us to remind her what right actually is. Because I don't think anyone has ever done that for her."

/

 **Skellytown, Texas**

Unlike his fellow Red Cards, William Bowles never changed his name. It was a common enough combination and he'd always figured that he'd be able to lay low with it.

Molly had always referred to him as the simple-minded leprechaun. Partly because he was an absolute nitwit, and also because every time he spoke she was absolutely positive that the Lucky Charms mascot was in their presence.

The lumbering man with graying chestnut hair and a beard to match lumbered through the supermarket with a card filled with beer, chips, and various frozen meals.

One thing all of the Red Cards had in common; a poor diet.

She placed a bag of Bartlett Pears into her basket-she opted not get an actual cart so that she could follow him a little better-and slowly wandered towards the checkouts behind William. Remaining inconspicuous, she got into the line in the lane to the left of his and picked up a magazine.

For a few moments, she feigned interest in Kelly Kashardian (or whatever the hell her name was) and her new kid.

The woman in front of her paid and went on her way, so Molly sidled up and exchanged small talk with the pimpled teen at the register. He wasn't really in the mood to converse, so she took that moment to glance over her shoulder.

William was still two people back in line. Perfect.

Paying for her pears and gum, Molly thanked the cashier and hurried towards the exit. She had parked in the row just behind William, so she wanted to be ready at the wheel when he got out.

/

 **Somewhere on I-30**

Rossi had been able to swallow most of the information he read over on his tablet. Though Molly Briggs' childhood was a tragic one, it was surprisingly not as heart wrenching as others he had seen.

It was when he reached her seventh birthday that he felt his stomach clench.

SERE Training.

He knew that her father, Dominic Briggs, was in the Marines. He knew that he had been discharged due to his mental state. Again, this was all pretty basic history for the family of an Unsub...victim? It was still unclear just what Molly was.

Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. It was the kind of training that would really make or break any soldier-young or old. And though it was far less brutal now than it was then, it was still a painful experience.

When Dominic went through SERE, as stated in his file, he almost lost his mind. For two days, his unit wandered a mountain in the Adirondacks. It had been the dead of winter and starting a fire was next to impossible. Briggs had been 'captured' first and he was subjected to torture by his own commanding officers.

It wasn't until they started lashing him that he gave up the classified information that the entire team had been given before they started the training.

Two weeks later, after multiple breakdowns, he was discharged.

After that, he married his fiancé of three years, Annie. And when she gave birth to their daughter, Dominic immediately moved his tiny family to Iceland.

For years, he filled journal after journal with daily accounts of their lives in the tundra. Most of the entries were inconsequential- _"We saw three foxes today", "Molly is finally fitting into the parka that Annie made last winter", "It hasn't snowed in nearly a month",_ and so forth. But when he got to Molly's sixth year, more was revealed about the reclusive family.

 _"Barry is finally here. He's going to help make sure that Molly is ready."_

 _"Tomorrow we're taking Molly hunting. It's about time she gets some blood on her hands."_

 _"I let Molly shoot the DS-39 today. I held her in place to keep her from getting knocked down, but the kid's a natural."_

A quick Google search on his phone revealed that a DS-39 was an unsuccessful machine gun produced by the Soviets. It had been discontinued in the 1940's. Dave arched an eyebrow and revealed this information to Morgan.

"Yeah, sometimes those are the easiest ones to get." The younger agent said signaling to pull off on the upcoming exit. They were running low on gas.

It wasn't until Derek got out to pump that Rossi got to the part that got his heart racing.

 _"She did terrible. We found her after less than twenty minutes and Barry broke her with only two shock rounds..."_

 _"...Today the girl was able to evade for three hours, but she didn't last long with the tub treatment. We dunked her fourteen times, no more than thirty seconds each. She should have been better..."_

 _"...We will need to take a break. The girl broke her arm trying to get out of her restraints..."_

Dave's skin was beginning to feel clammy.

Once a week. Once a week this child was taken out into the Icelandic Tundra and subjected to the torture that the Military was forced to discontinue due to the psychological trauma it had inflicted on the soldiers. But this little girl who, according to the Polaroid's found stuffed in between the pages of the journals, hadn't even lost all of her teeth was expected to withstand it.

She had been shocked, dunked under icy water repeatedly, lashed, and maimed. Kids were supposed to put Band-Aids over scrapes they get when falling off their bike, not wounds from the small caliber bullets shot at her to build up her resistance.

Nearing the end of his final journal, Briggs finally declares that Molly passed the SERE training. _"It took her almost two years, but she's finally worthy of the Briggs name."_ The sloppy handwriting had scrawled, it was getting smaller to accommodate all of the words he wanted to squeeze into the bottom of the page. _"I'm proud to call her my child."_

"1988." Dave sighed, pressing the power save button on the tablet and rubbing his eyes.

"What?"

He hadn't even realized that Morgan had gotten back into the car. Glancing his way, the Italian shook his head and squinted back towards the road they were headed back towards.

"1988 was the last time he called her Molly." He clarified. "When she turned seven, she was no longer his daughter. She was his...his soldier." The words left a sour taste in his mouth.

When Derek continued furrow his brows, baffled by the revelation that sounded as though it should have been obvious, Dave decided that it would best if he were brought up to speed.

Outrage was always better when shared with a friend.


	4. Ég er Móðir

_**Sundance, Wyoming**_

 _There wasn't an actual hospital in the horrible little town, so she had to drive an hour and half through a snow storm to Rapid City, South Dakota. She knew it would need to be done, so she made her way over the morning before her due date and checked into a hotel right across the street from the neonatal unit._

 _Flynn was perfect from the get go. He had made the first time mother's life easy by not making her too sick in the beginning and he didn't shift around in the middle of the night. He slept when she slept. She was so in love with the child before she even held him._

 _So it was no surprise to her when he didn't overstay his welcome as most first babies do. She woke up on that chilly Thursday morning with severe cramps and a wet patch beneath her on the mattress._

 _As she carefully made her way down the crosswalk with her ready bag slung over her shoulder, she was surprised that the panic she was sure she would feel at this point wasn't coursing through her veins. Instead, as she walked through the automatic doors and approached the front desk, she was calm and composed._

 _She had even conjured up a kind smile for the unduly chipper nurse who offered to escort her to her room via wheelchair._

 _Through no fault of his own, Flynn ended up needing to be delivered via C-section._

 _An hour into labor, the doctors noticed that her blood pressure was rapidly increasing and the worried that she was running the risk of preeclampsia. It may have been detected sooner had she not been previously seeing a doctor who operated out of a double wide behind an Arby's._

 _Due to this, and despite her son being born perfectly healthy, Molly and her new companion were kept for an extra three days for observation._

 _She called Nicholas, knowing full well that she would be speaking to his voicemail, and reported that their son was healthy and beautiful. She didn't update him on her own health because she knew he wouldn't care, so why waste her breath? It was doubtful that he even cared about their child's wellbeing, but she prayed that Flynn actually being there-in her arms-would change the awful man's outlook._

 _It was nearing midnight when she rolled back into Sundance. Her sweet Flynn, Flynn Montgomery Prentiss, was sleeping soundly in his carrier when she rounded the Wagoneer to retrieve him. She had wrapped him up in two layers of onesies and swaddled three blankets around him to ward off the cold._

 _Her body ached and for the first time she began to regret throwing away the bottle of pain medication she had been given. But she wouldn't be impaired. She had to be alert for her child. She climbed the front porch steps, wincing when she finally made it to the front door. The searing pain in her abdomen was beginning to creep around to her spine._

 _Of course, Nick had left the door unlocked. She was grateful that she didn't have to exert herself in order to deal with the finicky deadbolt, but she still slid it into place as soon as she stepped into the foyer._

 _Their home smelt of beer. Just...beer. Stale beer. There were probably gallons worth dried into the rugs and furniture._

 _Molly wrinkled her nose and walked wearily to the staircase and took a deep breath before clambering her way up. It wasn't until she got to the second floor that she let herself release the air and lean against the wall._

 _That was when she decided that her perfect boy would be an only child._

 _A light came from the door halfway down the hall-their room. It wasn't too bright, so she guessed that it was one of the bedside lamps. She was right._

 _It illuminated across their bedspread, the garnet color reflected up against the wall. Nick sprawled out on his side drooling and snoring against his pillow, a true gentleman. And on her side she could make out a head full of gorgeous blonde hair poking out from beneath the covers._

 _Molly sighed and rolled her lips in between her teeth. Really, what did she expect?_

 _Setting Flynn down just outside in the hall, he didn't need to be in there, she wandered over to her dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of pajamas and a change of clothes for the next day. She then went to turn off the lamp-no use in wasting electricity._

 _The baby's room was on the other end of the second floor. Far enough away that they wouldn't be disturbed by her husband's strident snores._

 _When she was settled in the nursery, she took the changing pad off of the dresser and layered it with some fleece blankets that had been folded in the crib. She placed Flynn, who was still sleeping like an angel, in the nest and covered him with the small quilt she had made out of mismatched flannel scraps she'd collected from the craft store._

 _She painted the nursery tan on three walls with an accent wall of forest green. It was supposed to be a calming color pallet. One that would give her son peace as he went to sleep every night with his parents-a horrible, violent father and a miserable mother-just down the hall._

 _As Molly laid herself out on the carpet beside her tiny bundle of joy, she smiled softly and ran her fingertips across his rosy cheek._

 _Until now, she never thought she would see the definition of happiness. But there he was. Happiness in the purest form._

 _So with a burning pain in her stomach and only a tiny baby blanket draped over her shoulders for warmth, Molly Prentiss was able to go to sleep with a light heart._

 _/_

"Can we get a dog when we get home?"

Molly lowered her binoculars and turned to smile at the boy in the passenger's seat. "What kind of dog do you want?" She asked before turning half of her attention back to the motel across the street.

"Not a puppy." He wrinkled his nose and dug his fingers under his beanie to scratch behind his ears. "Too noisy...and messy. Maybe he can be two or three?"

"He?" She smirked.

"Well, then you'll have two men to protect you." He sat up and puffed out his chest.

Her little warrior.

"What color will he be?" She could see Bowles moving the last of his groceries from his Camry into his room. She still had time. It would be best if she waited for him to be settled in before she made her move.

Again, she looked to Flynn who had been squinting his eyes in deep concentration. Finally, he shrugged one shoulder and gave her a crooked grin. "It doesn't matter. As long as he's big! No little rat dogs!"

Molly laughed and bobbed her head up and down. "No! No rats!" She had always wanted a little lap dog to spoil and pamper, but as always her opinion transformed to match her son's. "And what shall our large dog be called? Fluffy? Tinkerbell?"

He knew she was just messing with him but Flynn still shook his head vehemently. "No mom!" His delighted giggles filled the car like music. "We can't name him until we see him. Then it will just come to us. But I don't think it will be _Tinkerbell_." With a halfhearted roll of his eyes, he turned to look out the window.

Moments passed and they fell into a comfortable silence. Molly occasionally peered into the binoculars, to make sure that the blinds remained closed in Bowles' room while Flynn rolled the window up and down repeatedly.

After a few minutes passed, the boy let out a little huff and rolled his head to look up at his mom with a pitiful gaze. "It's hot."

It wasn't a whine-her child didn't whine-it was an observation.

She turned to him and chuckled. "Well, of course you're hot. You're wearing your jacket. I told you winter in Texas wasn't like winter in Alaska." She teased, reaching across the seat. "Here, let's take a couple of layers off."

When the thick jacket left his small frame, she paused.

The yellow turtle neck had been her idea. She always said that it would be the easiest color to spot were he to get lost or-in the case of that fateful morning-fell through the Ice. She always dressed him in bright colors, but yellow was by far the most vibrant. This particular shirt was one she had worn when she was a child. It was a solid goldenrod color, but it wasn't girly enough to be immediately scorned by her ten year old who was just starting to call himself a man.

It was different now though.

When she wore it, it was _just_ yellow. Not yellow and red. Where did the red come from?

By the time she realized the oddity of it, it was too late.

Suddenly, it all came rushing back to her. And as the red spread across the yellow, further up his chest, Molly let out a gasp and reached out to grab her son.

Her hand connected with the empty seat and immediately she could feel the sobs begin to bubble up her throat. It burned her esophagus and no matter how hard she tried to bite it back, the cry came out-ragged and harsh.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Her words were accompanied by ragged breaths and as she rested her forehead against the top of the steering wheel she could feel her hands begin to tingle. The sensation quickly spread up her arms.

If she didn't gain control soon, she'd lose consciousness.

So she lifted her head and sniffled. It was a disgusting sound and she was sure that if anyone were to come by and see her, sitting in her Wagoneer in the parking lot of what used to be a Blockbuster, they'd probably think she was a lunatic.

 _"Well,"_ Her face went stony when she saw the curtain rustle from inside the motel room. She reached into the backseat and grabbed her backpack before she threw her door open and hopped out into the warm air. _"They wouldn't be too far off."_

/

 **Little Rock Police Department**

 **Arkansas**

Penelope's head was spinning as she watched Spencer scribbling away on the whiteboard. He was thinking out loud, but that was obviously more for his benefit than hers.

The young genius was making it his mission to narrow down what Molly Prentiss' weaknesses were. And though he had yet to come to any conclusions, he was at least able to write down all of her-more obvious-strengths. Her killing record was in the triple digits and not one of their demises were exactly the same.

"A fingerprint pattern." He had called it.

It was an observation made to correct Garcia when she compared Molly's methods to snowflakes.

"Snowflakes are specks of dust that collect water vapor and form different shapes. It's the atmosphere that makes them different. So there are many factors contributing to their exceptionality, what with the varying atmospheres they come into contact with. Fingerprints are concrete and more likely to be proven as physically unique to its owner." He had already turned back to studying his files as he finished his explanation.

Deciding that choking the skinny blabbermouth would do them absolutely no good, Penelope bit her tongue and went back to pulling up information on her laptop.

/

 **Skellytown, Texas**

It took them only eight hours to get to the tiny town that hosted their next likely victim. William Bowles' house was less than a mile into the city line, so it felt like it took absolutely no time to get to the doublewide.

Without having to say anything, Hotch jumped out first, throwing a look over his shoulder to make sure his agents were staying close. For once, he was going to have the women take the lead. It wasn't that he never trusted them in the past, but as team leader he felt that he was the one who should always take point.

But this wasn't a dangerous Unsub. This was Molly.

Emily's sister, for all intents.

She would most likely be startled by their presence and react harshly if she felt attacked. But she wouldn't hurt the last thread of family she had. She obviously adored Prentiss, despite having been tormented by her brother.

Seeing the silent command Hotch threw her, Emily nodded and slipped her gun back into her holster. She had pulled it out instinctively when they pulled into the neighborhood. But she wouldn't be using it. Not on Molly. They were getting her home-safe and in one piece-if it was the last thing she did.

Prentiss winced at the creaking of the wooden porch steps beneath her feet. Once she had a higher vantage point, she scanned the yard surrounding them and her shoulders dropped.

"They're not here." She sighed aloud, pointing.

Hotch and JJ followed the gesture. The grass around the house and driveway was mostly overtaken by mud produced from the inclement weather Texas had been having over the past week. Their SUV was already somewhat sunken into the damp earth.

Any vehicle in or out of the area would have had to make tire tracks. And Molly would have parked it right next to the porch to transfer Bowles quickly without detection. She wouldn't have worried about leaving tracks because this was a dilapidated neighborhood. No one would have noticed, let alone cared about some damaged sod.

They went to the wrong place. She was headed towards Van Horn.

"We should still warn him." JJ said quietly. At the brunette's look she quickly elaborated. "We don't have to tell him _who_ is after him. If anything we can put him in custody with the local police and possibly build a case against him."

That was a good point. Emily jutted out her lower jaw and nodded. And given that it was likely that Molly wasn't on the inside, she placed a hand over her Glock before knocking firmly on the metal door.

Thirty seconds passed.

No answer.

She knocked again. "William Bowles?" She called out, tilting her head and listening for any shuffling from the other side.

"They ain't there."

The three agents turned sharply at the voice. A man-who epitomized everything "Backwoods Texan"-stood twenty feet away from them. His hands were shoved into the olive green waders that covered up a tank top that could have been white when purchased decades prior. It was now a grayish hue with brown stains spotting the chest and stomach.

"Went on vacation." He gave them a small smirk before sipping from the beer clutched in his grimy fingers. "Left last night. I'm feeding the cat." He said it as though he had been given keys to the White House.

"Do you know where they went?" Hotch demanded, taking the lead back when they stepped back towards the yard. This man had been eyeing his female companions a little too closely so he decided that they might appreciate him playing the man card for a moment.

"Biloxi." His stubbled cheeks puffed out when he attempted to swallow a burp. "Willy won them two free nights at...Margaritaville." He smiled a gummy smile and nodded with pride.

Emily pulled out her phone and gave the strange man a wide berth as she strode back towards the SUV. After dialing, she only had to wait for the line to ring once in her ear before her favorite tech savvy goddess answered. "Garcia, I need you to look up all of the hotels between here and Biloxi and check for William Bowles' name on the guest registries."

 _"You got it my love!"_ The chipper voice assured her. For less than a minute the only sound on the other end was Penelope's lightning speed typing. If it was anyone _but_ her, Emily would have been surprised with how quickly she got a hit. _"Okay, I have a William and Caroline Bowles. They checked into Peppermaid Suites. It's a motel in a town just southeast of you called Chillicothe. Sending you the coordinates as. We. Speak."_

"Thank you." Emily disconnected and nodded to the other two before hopping into the car.

/

 **Peppermaid Suites**

Daphne, it's what she had named her Mossberg 590, was tucked into the top compartment of her backpack for easy. She hardly ever bothered Daphne though. The shotgun, though powerful, was usually more trouble than it was worth.

It was messy and the bullets-12 gauge-were quite destructive. And she wanted to avoid that if at all possible. Why blow out a man's knee when you could simply cut it off entirely?

Deep down, she knew that she should also be concerned about the noise. But somehow, that part never really bothered her. Let them catch her.

She sat down on the air vent that jutted out beneath the window of Bowles' first floor motel room. Resting her palms on her knees, she stifled a yawn and arched her back to loosen up the muscles. Weeks of driving were rough on the body, but lugging around grown men who doubled her weight was downright brutal.

/

"Her strengths definitely outweigh her weaknesses." Deputy Arnold, of the Little Rock P.D noted staring at the board filled nearly corner to corner with Reid's writing. Given that the BAU was using their station for headquarters, the officers were within their right to observe what was going on at that end at least.

Spencer tapped the closed marker to his chin and squinted as he spoke, "They're not so much _strengths_ as much as they are strategies." He said, pointing to the left column. "You see, this list shows the name of each of her kills, followed by their age, weight, and height. With the larger targets she used weapons-knives, ropes, and very rarely she would use a gun.

Now with the smaller victims, she took a hands-on approach. She would either snap their neck or strangle them. And in one case, with a rather obese gentleman soaking in his tub, she resorted to drowning." He paused and checked his notes. "Now, her records don't show that she has ever been treated for any injuries acquired on the job. In fact, the only hospital records I see are from when she was first rescued from Iceland and then years later when she had her son."

Penelope shrugged. "So, she was good at her job."

"Yes, there's no denying that. But just because she was never hospitalized, doesn't mean she was never injured." Spencer said, holding up a picture taken of Molly and Flynn at the beach. "She's wearing pants here, but Flynn is wearing swim trunks and is covered in sunscreen. The time date for this picture is in July, and the sand indicates that it was taken off the coast of California."

Arnold arched his eyebrows and opened his mouth to question the younger man's deduction, but Garcia held up her fuzzy purple pen. "Just let him do his thing." She said lightly, leaning back in her seat to get comfortable for the rest of the shpiel.

"Flynn was only about two here, and from what I know of Molly, she wouldn't have dressed him in a bathing suit unless it was warm enough for it. She wouldn't have risked him getting sick." Reid threw down another photo. This one was a little older. It was from Molly's youth-she couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. She was standing in what appeared to be a government office amongst twenty or so large men in suits. She was wearing a dress that went up to her knees.

Minutes passed as he flipped through photo after photo, studying each one vehemently. Once they were all lined up chronologically, he plucked one up from the center.

"From late 2001 through mid-2002, she's sitting down in every picture." He pointed out, stacking the group up and sliding them across to Garcia and the deputy. "And during that time she had taken a break from work, but she was still getting government pay, only went up 15.7%."

"Okay, so..." Penelope tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, trying to follow his freight train of thought.

"Disability was added to her annual salary." Reid elaborated. "And Molly walks with a gait on her right side. I didn't really think much of it when we were with her because we had Flynn to worry about. But looking back, she definitely had a limp. It didn't suggest muscle or bone damage though, it would have been more pronounced after climbing or running. It was a consistent stride that remained the same regardless of weather or activity."

He mulled this over for a minute before his brain allowed the conclusion to be made. "Molly has a prosthetic leg."

/

For ten minutes she sat, staring at the parking lot.

Nobody drove in or out of the motel. The only thing to be heard within a five mile radius was the chirping of birds and the rumble from the interstate just behind them.

Taking a deep breath, Molly stood up and swung her arms back and forth, loosening the muscles, before raising her arm to knock. She waited patiently for the chain to slide and the deadbolt to unlatch.

It was when the knob turned that she lifted her leg and kicked as hard as she could.

The string of curses that rattled out were Irish and they were pissed. The metal door had swung inward, slamming against his face and busting his nose. Blood immediately poured past his lips and down his chin.

/

"So she has a fake leg." Arnold shrugged. "What are you gunna do? Kick it out from under her? You'll have to find her first."

Spencer shook his head. "No, we don't need this information to take her down. We need it to find her." He insisted. "The more we figure out about what drives her, the more we can do to help her."

"Yeah, but honey, she doesn't need help. Not with her leg at least." Penelope reminded him gently. "And I hate to say it, but she is mentally trained to not have any weaknesses."

"She _was_ trained that way, yes." Reid stood from his chair and went back to the board. "From the time she was born through her teens, she was under the impression that she was indestructible. This impairment was probably the first time she realized she was capable of human error. It would have been traumatizing, both physically and emotionally. But she returned to work less than a year later and look how her method changed."

He moved back to the board and began reviewing the assassinations Molly made starting in 2002. "Her first one back, Andrew Spalding, was stabbed through the posterior ramus with an icepick before she slit his throat. Hugo Blanchard had both of his eyes gouged out and pushed from his eighth story balcony. Laramie Pike was force-fed battery acid..."

"So she got more violent." Penelope interrupted him with a wave of her hand. Sometimes the boy genius forgot that she wasn't the teammate to go into such details with.

"Not just that, she became more involved." Reid was bouncing on his toes as it all began to fall into place. "Before, it had been just a...just a job. She did what needed to be done and got out. But when she lost her leg, she began to get a little more personal. She made sure the people she eliminated were in the ultimate amount of anguish before they passed. And the government signed off on it, because she was still getting it done."

Finally, Garcia began to catch on as well. "So when Flynn died, all of those emotions came back."

"And Gusev kidnapping Emily was the final trigger." Spencer concluded. "She realized there was more to be done, so finishing her job, only without the killing."

"Take as much as she can, but letting them live is pretty damn cruel." Arthur shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'll call Rossi and Morgan, you call Hotch's team." Penelope told Reid, already dialing her phone.

/

Williams's grunts of pain and frustration didn't faze her. She left him lying on the floor between the TV stand and the foot of the closest bed. His hands covered his bloody face, as he growled a little more profanity at her.

"Shut up." She muttered, digging through the front pocket of her backpack. "This won't take long." Molly let out a sigh of relief when she produced a syringe full of scarlet liquid. She had forgotten to bring one when she 'retrieved' Sasha, so she had to resort to knocking her out with the handle of her axe. It worked, but it took a lot more effort than the Russian woman deserved.

Just as she was turning back to her latest conquest, a shot rang out.

The sound rattled her ears and forced her back a step. Shaking her head, Molly glowered at William who was sitting up on his elbows with his revolver still smoking in his hand.

The discomfort in her shoulder only phased her for a moment. She could feel the blood pouring down the front of her arm and noted that there was nothing coming from the back. The bullet never left, because the son of a bitch shot her with some sort of fragmenting shell. That was going to be hard to get out of there.

"So much for playing nice." She sighed, swiftly kicking the gun from his hand before he could fire another round.

/

JJ hung up the phone after their conference with Reid. She turned to Emily who had been fidgeting in the front seat more and more as the conversation progressed.

"Did you know about her leg?" She asked gently, resting her hand on Prentiss' shoulder.

The older woman startled slightly and shook her head. "No, no I didn't." She gnawed on her upper lip and shook her head. "I only saw her a few times after she left the academy. In fact, the last time I saw her was about a week before she moved away to marry Nick. But I never noticed a...a limp...and she never mentioned it."

"For some reason, she thought it was better to keep it a secret." Hotch surmised, keeping his tone light.

"Apparently, a lot of people wanted to keep it a secret." JJ added. "There was nothing in her file about it."

"Well, it's not like it's stopping her, so what difference does it make?" Emily sat up in her seat and checked the ETA on the GPS in the center console.

Forty-five minutes to go.

"Well, it could be something used against her by one of her targets." Aaron reminded her. "If they notice a weakness, they'll go straight for it." He had seen it time and time again. And while he knew deep down that anyone who tried to take Molly out at the leg would more than likely be pounded to death by the prosthetic, he kept that to himself.

He could see, as well as feel, the tension rolling off of Emily. The longer they took to find her, and the more people she caught, the more dangerous the situation was becoming. They all knew what the Red Cards were capable of. They had been ruthless and savage in their heyday, and a series of events like this could awaken the beast.

With that, he pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas.

/

Bungee cords were what finally kept Bowles in place. He had squirmed out of the ropes and the handcuffs gave him too much range of motion. With the tight cords wrapped around his arms, he wasn't going anywhere.

For once, the blood that covered her target was not theirs, but her own. She could feel it gushing from her wound, but she knew that if she paused to fix it, she'd make a mistake. She'd forget something.

"Stand up." She growled, using the bed to hoist herself up before yanking the large Irishman to his feet. She had cuffed his ankles together, so walking was going to be a bit of a struggle. At least she didn't have to carry him. With the Red Magic knocked out of her hand, she was unable to dose him.

So cutting off the bastard's hands wasn't in the stars, but on the brightside, he could walk to the car himself.

"You run, I stab you in the crotch." She threatened, chuckling when he nearly toppled over, looking every bit like a worm under a magnifying glass. "I guess the better phrase is, if you _hop,_ I stab you in the-"

She trailed off when the door was pushed open before they got to it.

A woman with curly brown hair, stared at them, her mouth open. At her side stood a little boy, no older than six or seven. He clutched a toy dump truck under one arm a bag of army men in the other.

"Daddy?" His little voice called out when he saw the man bound and gagged standing next to a stranger.

Molly nearly dropped her backpack. The rapid blood loss combined with the sight of the child's mop of red curls left her head spinning. She huffed a sigh and shoved William onto the bed. "Come on." She gestured for the two to come inside. When they didn't move, she shifted her bag lightly to reveal the handle of Daphne. "Please."

Her eyes bore into those of the terrified mother, silently begging her not to force her to have to pull a gun on her and her kid.

Finally, the woman relented. She was smart enough to remain silent as she picked up the boy and carried him into the room.

As Molly closed the door, she observed the wife shoot daggers at her husband, not even asking if he was okay. She simply set her son down on the other bed and stood between him and them like a shield.

 _"Oh yeah."_ Molly chuckled to herself as she dug through her backpack. Watching the mother protect her child from his father as well as their captor was all the indication needed. _"She knew exactly what she was married to."_


	5. Ég er Syndari

**Peppermaid Suites**

 **Chillicothe, Texas**

There were already squad cars filling the parking lot of the motel.

LEO's were swarming the small complex weaving in and out of a room that faced the main road. An ambulance had been parked near the main office.

"We're too late." Emily muttered swinging her door open before the SUV came to a complete stop. She ignored the shout from Hotch and darted across the pavement and searching for an officer who didn't look like they were fresh out of the womb.

For some reason, the smaller towns tended to have the _youngest_ law enforcement. Normally that didn't really bother her. But she needed to get answers that a rookie would be too hesitant to answer.

Hotch and JJ were just catching up to her when she zoned in on a tall man with salt and pepper hair and a look of authority. A few stars lined the collar of his navy jacket, plus he seemed to be the only one who _didn't_ look like he was wearing his father's clothes.

"What happened here?" Prentiss tried to catch her breath as she flashed her badge at him. She held up her hand when the chief furrowed his brows and opened his mouth. "We have a lead that led us to this location! What happened?"

Hearing her voice beginning to rise, Hotch placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back so that she wasn't shouting directly into the stunned man's face. "Prentiss." He warned quietly. When he was sure that she wasn't about reel around and slug him, he looked to the chief. He read the golden stitching on his right breast pocket. "Officer...Silva, I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, these are agents Prentiss and Jareau, we're with the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Behavioral Analysis..." Silva sputtered looking between the three. "How...what...this is just a cut and dry robbery and assault. Nothing really needs to be analyzed."

"Did you catch the perpetrator?" Emily moved her wide eyes to scan the squad cars surrounding them. She didn't see anyone sitting in the back of them. Immediately, she felt guilty for the relief that flooded her system. But the idea of Molly being cornered by cops she didn't know had her on edge.

The chief shook his head. "No, they fled the scene."

"Then we'll decide whether or not it needs to be analyzed." Hotchner kept his voice firm but polite. He didn't want to step on any toes, but they didn't have time to argue about jurisdiction. "This is possibly related to some Interstate incidents, so we'll need access to the crime scene to confirm whether or not that's the case."

Seemingly at a loss, Silva lifted his hands and shook his head. "Right this way then." He huffed, leading them pass the yellow tape and into the motel room. He gestured to the men taking pictures of the scene, "Guys, clear out for a few."

The young men paused, appraising the group warily, before stepping around them out the door.

"We're not sure of a timeline yet, but it couldn't have been more than an hour ago," Silva started with his explanation. "Our officers arrived at the scene to see mother and son tied up on the bed, gagged but unharmed. They said a woman was in the room when they got back from the park. She was dressed in all black, had red hair, and either green or blue eyes."

Definitely Molly.

A small part of Emily had hoped that they would find out that someone else entirely was behind all of this. Maybe someone else had a personal vendetta against Red Card. That was still probably the case, but she highly doubted that anyone else had the skillsets that Molly did.

"Who called it in?" JJ asked, keeping one eye on Emily as she wandered around the room.

"We don't know that either." Silva said, "Someone called the station, complaining about a noise she heard coming from Room 104, but the front desk clerk said he hadn't heard anything. The Bowles' were the only ones staying here, and nobody else really comes around these parts. At least not close enough to be bothered by the noise."

"Was it a female who called?" Hotchner was already getting his phone out to dial Penelope. Silva's not and look of realization were all of the confirmation he needed. He held the cell to his ear and spoke before the tech analyst could finish her elaborate greeting, "Garcia, I need you to track any calls made to the Chillicothe Police Department within the last two hours."

"It was the only call we got to day." Silva told him quietly.

"Then she'll find it in no time." JJ gave him a tight smile.

"Whose blood is this?"

They all turned quickly at Emily's urgent demand. She was leaning in close to the small space of wall between the front door jamb and the window. There was crimson splattered on the chipped ecru paint. At first it didn't seem so bad, but as her eyes ran down the wall and across the floor, she could see dark patches trailing along green carpet.

"Mr. Bowles was found in the bathroom." Silva led them over to the mentioned room and pushed the door so that it was opened all the way. "He was standing on the edge of the tub with a rope tied around his neck. The other end of it was tied to the shower rod so tight that he had to stand on his tip-toes to keep from choking."

"What were his injuries?" Hotch moved to look at the frayed rope still hanging from the metal bar that was drilled into the wall on both sides.

"Some minor knife wounds." The chief shrugged. "Broken nose and busted lip, but he'll live."

"No amputations?" JJ arched her eyebrows, surprised.

Silva's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "No...What?" He squinted and shook his head. "No. No amputations. What the hell is going on?"

"He wasn't shot?" Emily responded to his question with one of her own.

He checked his notepad to confirm before responding, "No GSW's."

"Stab wounds wouldn't have caused this blood splatter." Prentiss charged back to the other side of the room, pointing at the stains. "This is from a gunshot. It's not a lot and there's no bullet hole so it wasn't a through and through. But the amount of blood on the floor indicates that it was a pretty serious wound."

Hotchner could see the panic building up inside of her, so he quickly jumped into the role of crime scene investigator to help her collect facts. He gestured to the smear of red on the edge of the inner door, "It looks like this was probably smashed into his face, which would explain the facial injuries." He observed. "So, she came at him with a blitz attack, attempting to inflict injury immediately in order to gain an advantage."

"If it was a female, that would more than likely be the case." Silva agreed. "The wife's description puts her at around 5'6 and Bowles is just over 6'8."

The three agents knew that size wasn't an issue. Molly was capable of attacking any human of any stature with or without the element of surprise. But they chose to keep that information to themselves. They couldn't risk making her identity public information.

"He was ready for her." JJ pointed out. "He shot her as soon as she was in the door."

Emily winced and nodded. She silently prayed that it wasn't a lethal wound. "Then she apprehended Bowles, but before she could get him out, the wife and son got back?"

Silva nodded at her. "Mrs. Bowles said that she looked almost...scared of them." He said. "She wouldn't even look at the boy. She had the mother tie him up but was adamant about her not making the ropes too tight on his wrists. Apparently, she was apologizing throughout most of it."

"Empathy." JJ stated the obvious. "She felt for the woman. She was in her place once."

"Yes, but she knew when to get out." Hotchner muttered before addressing Silva, "Are the Bowles still here?"

"Mr. Bowles was taken to the hospital already." The chief told him, "But mother and son are still here."

He led them back outside and gestured towards the ambulance. Prentiss had deliberately avoided looking that way before, terrified of seeing Molly being zipped into a body bag. If she had to place a bet on her sister-in-law's future C.O.D it would either be resisting arrest or suicide bomb. She was just that committed.

As they drew closer, all three of them immediately saw what made Molly so skittish. The child, wrapped in a blanket and sitting in his mother's lap. His face was different-more freckles and a pointier nose-and his eyes were brown, but the hair was nearly the same. The red curls made their own hearts clench at the memory of the boy who had been murdered on that mountain top.

They couldn't imagine what went through Molly's head.

"Um..." Prentiss' steps faltered as she reached up to touch Hotch's arm. "I think I'll-"

She pointed over her shoulder, at nothing in particular, and Aaron immediately understood. "We got this." He gestured Silva who had hung back by the motel room. "Why don't you fill him in on who William Bowles is? They'll want to slap some handcuffs on his hospital bed."

Emily nodded and in that moment, she wanted to plant a sloppy wet kiss right on his mouth. _Later_. She told herself, settling for simply squeezing his hand instead. _Better not scare the locals._

She watched her handsome Unit Chief head towards the ambulance with JJ-who couldn't resist throwing a cheeky smirk over her shoulder.

Yes, Molly was injured, but she wasn't anywhere as lost as they thought she was. She was shot. She was injured by a nasty man and she _didn't_ kill him. Sure, her actions were still questionable and would have been more than illegal if done by anyone else. But she showed restraint. She didn't lay a hand on the mother and son. Innocent bystanders.

Not that she had ever resorted to that, even though her bosses had given her permission to kill any and all witnesses. Actually, they insisted upon it. But even when her heart was at its coldest, Molly refused to shed the blood of the innocent.

Clearing her throat, Prentiss turned and nodded at Silva, indicating that they had more to talk about.

 _She's still Molly._ She gave herself a little pep talk, walking up the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets. _She hasn't crossed the line._

/

"Drulludeli." She grunted, tweezing shard number nine from her shoulder. At this point, she was still able to drive while treating her wound. In about an hour-when she had to get to work on the shrapnel embedded in her bones-she would need to find a rest stop. "Sonur tík!"

She found that it was easier if she uttered all of her favorite vulgarities while operation on herself. She breezed through the English ones twice over by now, so she had moved onto the Icelandic ones.

The hand connected to her injured arm held the wheel steady. Luckily the highway was relatively empty, so that when she occasionally jerked into the other lane there was no one to crash into.

Also, she really wasn't in the mood to be slapped with an indecent exposure citation. She had removed her shirt-heavy with blood-and tossed it into the backseat so that she could have easier access. Her sports bra covered enough. She had seen far less worn by the teens wandering the streets of the Southwestern states she drove through.

"Fjandinn heimskulegt feitur andlit hans!" She shouted that one. That had been the largest piece yet. After making sure that she was still the only one on the road, she held the tweezers up and examined the metal scrap. It was only about one or two centimeters long, and inch at the most, but it was jagged and spurred on the sides. It tore her flesh from the inside when it was yanked out.

She didn't know what kind of bullets Bowles had in his gun, but whoever manufactured them just made it on her list.

/

 **Little Rock Police Department**

 **Arkansas**

They were bored.

It took Garcia all of five minutes to trace the 911 call back to a payphone across the street from the motel. Of course this was of no help to her lovely agents, but she did her part.

Now all she had to do was wait for her next assignment.

Reid, who had pretty much memorized Molly's file in its entirety, was simply staring at the whiteboard now. Hoping that something would jump out at him-even though he had been the only person to write on the damn thing.

"Did you know the Arctic Fox is the only mammal native to Iceland?" He said suddenly, startling Penelope from her mindless scan of Red Card files. "Other animals were imported there over the years and bred in farms across the nation, but none of them _actually_ originated there. Marine mammals eventually migrated there from other regions as well."

"Super cool." Garcia rubbed her temple with the pointer finger of her left hand while scrolled her mouse with the right. "But as much as I'd love to hear about foxes and polar bears and every other cute creature living in that Nordic wasteland-"

"Interestingly enough," Spencer held up his finger, cutting her off mid-rant. "Polar bears don't reside in Iceland. They can be found in almost every other part of the arctic circle, but it's almost as though they skipped over that region entirely."

"Reid!" Penelope chucked her pen at him.

The fuzzy end hit him right between the eyes, startling him. But only for a moment.

"And Iceland isn't necessarily a wasteland." He continued, keeping his voice somewhat subdued at this point. As though he were speaking against his will. "A wasteland is defined as being baron and unused, whereas Iceland has a thriving population of nearly 330,000."

"Stop. Stop..." She drew it out the second time, warning him. "I know your super brain is running a mile a minute right now. But you need to give it a rest. The team will be calling any minute and we need to give them all we've got."

He seemed to accept this. Nodding and sucking his lips between his teeth, he went back to studying his notes.

Just when the silence settled, he mumbled, "They don't have a McDonald's in Iceland either."

Garcia growled and threw her head back.

/

 **Interstate 20**

 **Texas**

The consensus was that she'd be heading to Bronte next. It was a small town nearing central Texas. The drive time would be pretty much equal for both parties, so they expected to be able to meet up this time.

Morgan had just pulled into the Van Horn police station when JJ called to tell them that Molly had gone to Skellytown instead-well not Skellytown, but a path leading from Skellytown.

Last they'd heard-as they were getting back onto the interstate-William Bowles was hospitalized and currently being processed. He would be the first Red Card Detainee not to be deported. He had been the only legalized citizen thus far, so he would be transferred to the maximum security prison in Abilene.

"So she didn't remove anything from Bowles?" Dave asked in disbelief. He was antsy. They had spent nearly twenty-four hours straight travelling and they'd yet to see any action. Well, there car hadn't. Hotch's at least got a little bit of a crime scene to entertain them. "Why would she change her M.O?"

Derek shrugged, keeping an eye on his rearview mirror as he switched lanes. "Maybe the kid threw her off her game." He suggested. "Or it could be that her injury hindered her. From the looks of the blood splatter, Hotch thinks that she was hit with a fragmenting bullet. Those can do some serious harm."

Rossi shook his head. "Yeah, but this is a very determined woman." 'Determined' was an understatement. Reading her file had been one of the more surreal moments of his life. "She was still able to haul him into the bathroom and rig him up on the shower rod. She could have easily dumped him in the tub and sawed off his arm or something."

When Morgan didn't offer a reply, he went on.

"Time was on her side. She could have moved the mother and son somewhere else, gone back, and mutilated him once she regained her strength. But instead, she left him mostly unscathed and called it in herself. Why?"

There were a lot of plausible explanations Derek could have thrown his way. The more obvious being, she wanted to get out of there before she bled out. But he was tired. And he was frustrated.

Molly was doing them a favor. He didn't necessarily like her methods, but she was doing a pretty damn good job. In less than a month, she had apprehended eight criminals. All of whom were flying under the radar, with some pretty heinous acts under their belts. She was doing what their team wasn't allowed to do. She was doing what the government was too lazy, and/or cheap, to do.

Why were they trying to stop her?

/

 **Bronte, Texas**

The gas station was empty. In small towns, they didn't remain open all night.

Fortunately, the payphone was outside.

She had been staring at the device for going on twenty minutes, contemplating her next move. _It could be too risky. It could be dangerous. It could help._

Two steps back, one step forward. The perfect metaphor for her life.

"Screw it." She muttered, unbuckling her seatbelt and shoving her door open. Her arm had blessedly gone numb from the elbow up after she had removed the last of the shrapnel. There was probably a bit of nerve damage. Hopefully time would take care of that healing process.

Fishing out her gallon-sized zip lock bag of change, Molly scooped out a handful as she approached the phone. The yellow sheet of paper, torn from a legal pad at BAU headquarters, was still folded up in the front pocket of her backpack. Emily had given it to her before they left to find Flynn.

 _"Try to stay with us at all times."_ She had said as she slid it across her desk. _"But if you do, this is all of our numbers. I even put Garcia's on there. She can track you down if you were lost in the Center of the Earth."_

Molly grinned at the memory of her laughing at her own joke. If nothing else, Emily could always entertain herself.

She picked up the receiver and balanced it between her shoulder and ear before shoving silver coins into the slot until the dial tone was interrupted with two sharp beeps. She ran the tip of her index finger along the curved blue writing on the first line of the wrinkled sheet. For a moment she alternated between curving the digit and straightening it out.

Finally, she let out a breath and quickly dialed the nine numbers before she changed her mind.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

And just when she thought that it might go to voicemail, she heard a click and a slight shuffle before. _"H-Hello?"_

"Emily?" Molly kept one eye on the dark empty road on the other side of the parking lot. "I need to tell you something."


	6. Ég er Dýrlingur

**A/N: The chapter titles are lines from the song "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks translated into Icelandic. I don't own the song or Criminal Minds.**

 **Enjoy and please review!**

 _She didn't know that things could be this clean. Her fingers swept across the sterile sheets in her lap before they made their way up and across the metal bed railing._

 _No dust. No dirt._

 _Her lips quirked and she looked up at the man sitting in the maroon chair, watching her intently. It had been five minutes since he said something, and she couldn't remember what it was. Was it a question? An answer maybe?_

 _She wasn't concerned. He had repeated himself before when he'd felt unheard. She had no doubt that he would do so again._

 _"Molly, how's your hand?" His voice was soft._

 _Looking down, the child smiled tightly and nodded. "I picked up my spoon this morning."_

 _His gray bushy eyebrows arched; as though this update surprised him._

 _How could he be so shocked when he was the one who asked the question?_

 _Molly wrinkled her nose and went back to studying her new sterile environment. "Thank you for the pillows." She kept her tone light, friendly. It would do her no good to bring the aggressive behavior back. There was no way that this old man would be able to defend himself. "They're soft. I never had one before."_

 _He didn't comment on this. Instead, he scribbled something down on his little leather bound notepad as he posed another question. "Do you remember climbing on the rocks?" He peered over the rim of his glasses. "Do you remember the men you hurt?"_

 _"They were trying to take me away." She tilted her head. "If someone were trying to take you, would you not fight?"_

 _Again, he was left without a response._

/

"Molly! What's going on? Where are you?" Emily swung her wide eyes towards Hotch and put the phone on speaker in the consul between their seats.

JJ was just dialing Garcia when Molly's words stopped her.

 _"I'm at the gas station on 101 S State Street in Bronte, Texas."_ She sounded calm. As though she hadn't been going across the US mutilating some of the world's most reclusive criminals. _"I've been...I did something...some_ _ **things**_ _."_

Prentiss nodded and let out a breath. "I know. We just left the motel."

There was silence on the other end for a few moments. Just when they thought they had lost the connection, a chuckle came through. _"Of course you did."_ She sniffled, though it wasn't from crying. The tightness in her voice indicated that she was cold. _"I'm not done. I'm sorry, but I'm just not."_

"Molly-"

 _"Emmy, I called you for a reason. I don't need you to talk me out of anything."_

"Okay. Okay." Emily took a breath; she didn't want to irritate her. That was the last thing they needed. "Are you okay? We saw the blood."

 _"It was just my shoulder."_ She made light of the injury. As though it were just a little cut rather than a bullet wound that had been riddled with scraps of metal. _"Are they okay?"_

They were lost for a moment, not understanding who 'they' were. But JJ caught on first.

"The boy, Logan, he just wanted to go inside and get his truck." She assured the fellow mother. "He didn't even ask about his dad. And Caroline seemed almost...relieved."

On the other end, Molly cleared her throat. _"He hit her."_ She said crisply. _"She was happy that someone else took care of it."_

Prentiss bit back a smile. It was good to hear that she had a heart. She was feeling for Mrs. Bowles and wanting to protect her and her son. That was good. So good. "Molly, you kept them safe." She said shakily. "But you don't have to do this alone."

 _"Emily, please!"_

"Sorry." She bit her lip. "What do you need?"

 _"I just wanted to tell you something."_ Her breath was uneven. She was trying to compose herself. _"You just need to know that in case...in case something happens...What happened with Nick isn't your fault, okay? I know you. I know what's been going through your mind since I told you Flynn was taken. You're not capable of evil, so why would I hold you accountable?"_

Cursing to herself, Emily rolled her eyes to look at the top of the windshield, staring at the stars as she willed the tears back. Maybe she hadn't been as in control of her emotions as she'd thought. Molly wasn't even a profiler-hell, she had just spent a decade in isolation-and she was able to read her like a book.

 _"The thing is..."_ Molly's voice caught her attention again. _"I don't know what's going to happen in the next few days. It could get pretty bad for me. But I have to be sure that you won't blame yourself. I have it all coming to me. I'm not a good person."_

"Molly-"

 _"I didn't say that for you to disagree with me."_ She sounded exasperated, but resolved. _"People aren't always made to be good. I understand that. Flynn was my shred of human decency. He made me human. But after...after that...There's no going back. I can't be human anymore. You have to know that."_

None of them had anything to say. It was clear that she wasn't looking for a debate-even though they all had their qualms. Finally, Hotch spoke up.

"I know that you don't want our help Molly and I understand that." He tried to stay firm but sympathetic. It was a skill that he had acquired over the years. "But you need to let us do something before other authorities get involved. They're going to act without knowing your reasons. But we know. We get it."

He didn't want to sound like he was placating her to get his way, because that wasn't necessarily the case. Sure, he wanted her to stand down and let them step in. But he also wanted her to know that they weren't against her. Because when someone was faced with the decisions Molly had been given, being treated like a felon could push her over the edge.

 _"Thank you for understanding Agent Hotchner but..."_ She paused, and suddenly her voice sounded far away, as though she were holding the receiver away from her face. _"I have to go. I don't have a lot of time."_

"Molly, wait-" Prentiss was cut off by a click coming through the speaker. "Dammit."

/

 _The sun greeted her, warming her to the core as she stepped onto the front porch. For the first time in her life, she was able to go outside without sleeves covering her arms. It was a nice birthday present._

 _She was turning nine today._

 _Before now, she didn't know that one celebrated when gaining another year. She had always taken the word for was it was. Birthday-the day of your birth. Why rejoice?_

 _In this life, it was tradition. People preferred to commemorate every year survived. As though saying, 'Hey, good job! You're not dead yet!'_

 _She had laughed at the idea at first. But when she woke up that morning and saw the wrapped packages piled on the dining room table, her heart felt strange. Vivien, the wife of the soldier who took her home, told her that it wasn't just to celebrate her being born. It was to celebrate the life she was living. As though this had been earned._

 _Molly nodded, and asked if she could open the gifts later. It would be better if she waited for Sergeant Malloy got home from work. He would have been happy to see her participating in the tradition he had been building up for the past month. After he had been so kind to her, he deserved at least that._

 _It took a brave man to take in a child who wanted nothing more than to kill him when they first met. In fact, if she hadn't been sedated on that hilltop, she would have broken his trachea. The fact that he was willing to give her shelter after that was definitely surprising._

 _Vivien beamed and agreed to her request. "Why don't you go play on the swing?" She suggested. "I'll make you some waffles."_

 _Now, she sat on the two planks of wood, nailed side-by-side so that she could sit securely on top, and gripped the ropes tied on either side. The tree that it had been hung from was large and had long winding branches that stretched out, shading most of the large backyard. The Sergeant had put it there the week after they took her home._

 _As she swayed back and forth, basking in the warm sunshine, Molly glanced down at her hand. White scars lined the top of it. They ran along her bones and it looked almost skeletal. She flexed her fingers. No more pain._

 _That was nice._

/

The day of her ninth birthday stuck out to her more than anything else. She had spent the former part of her childhood being treated like a prisoner of war, and though she would never forget that either, what really stuck with her was that sunny day at the Malloys' farmhouse.

A swing made just for her. Presents wrapped just for her. A strawberry cake with buttercream frosting, made from scratch, just for her.

Never had she been greedy. But everyone liked to think that they were considered special at some point in her life.

 _Enough._ She growled internally. _Self-pity is for the pitiful._ Another expression coined by the great Dominic Briggs. Simple logic from a simple man.

Headlights coming from the end of the road caught her attention. It was actually only one headlight and the orange reflector next to where the other light should have been. The sedan, an old make with grayish white paint and thick black door handles, pulled up to the curb of the liquor store.

 **Williston's** was the name of the establishment. It was owned by two brothers, Chet and Clint Williston. But the two men who climbed out of the beat up vehicle did not match their very _Texan_ names.

Italian's, from her experience, were very proud people who were anti-American, even after they snuck into the country. So it was funny to see Leone and Tazio Gatti strut through the front doors of their American liquor mart dressed in tight jeans, plaid shirts, and Stetsons. When they passed her car, she even noticed that their belts were adorned with large gold plated buckles.

She cringed and slipped her jacket on, trying to ignore the tingling in her shoulder.

A few minutes after the brothers disappeared inside of the front doors, she climbed out and hurried in after them.

/

"There! There she is!" Garcia called out, waving Spencer over from the coffee pot. He practically threw his styrofoam cup on the conference table, before rounding it to stand behind her. Penelope snaked her arm around and poked his shoulder. "She's in the store! Call Hotch!"

When they pulled up the information for the next victim, they discovered that it would be a double whammy. It didn't take long for Garcia to get the scoop on the Gatti brothers, who owned the barely successful store. Their American aliases were struggling as business owners in a small town with only a few people who could afford to buy alcohol in bulk.

They were relieved about the lack of business as they stared at the surveillance footage on her laptop. Cameras had been set up in the front and back corners of the store, giving them a clear view of the empty aisles.

Tazio, the short but muscular brother went straight towards the back office while Leone, the tall thin one, was relieving the young man who had been working the register while they'd been out. He handed the worker-who couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen-a wad of bills and sent him on his way.

The kid bumped shoulders with Molly as she passed by him to get inside. The redhead was shaking off his apology while Garcia was getting Reid's attention.

Spencer held his phone to his ear, watching intently as Molly strolled up and down the aisles, feigning interest in the limited supply of off-brand libations. A sharp voice startled him out of his trance.

"Hotch! Where are you?" He asked. "Molly's at the Gattis' store."

 _"We're still about twenty minutes out."_ The Unit Chief would have sounded panicked if he'd been capable of normal human emotion while on the job. _"What's she doing Reid?"_

"She's just walking around." Penelope responded for him. They couldn't take their eyes off of the screen. "She hasn't even looked at them...Oh!"

 _"What?"_

"Leone sees her!"

The man was calling across the store. There wasn't any sound on the video, but from what it looked like, he was asking her if she needed help. Molly turned and shook her head, shooting him a friendly smile.

"It doesn't look like he recognizes her." Reid observed as Leone went back to checking the list clipped to a clipboard on the front counter.

 _"Are we sure it's the brothers?"_

"They haven't changed a bit since their mugshots." Penelope wrinkled her nose before adding, "Except for their tacky clothes."

They kept them on the phone while waiting for something, anything, to happen. But for a few minutes, all Molly did was pick up one bottle after another, reading each label as though she were studying for an exam.

Five minutes passed.

Molly reached into the backpack slung over her left shoulder and pulled out a small black bag. Garcia's eyes widened. She could hear Spencer relaying the actions to their teammates, but all of her focus was on what the young woman was doing.

But before she moved out of the aisle she had been in, Molly looked up and stared directly at the camera overhead. She produced a second bag; this one was a paper grocery sack that had been folded up to fit in the pack. She held it up and stared intently at the lens, as though she could actually see the two people watching her. Nodding, she set the brown bag on the top shelf, hiding it behind a couple of tequila bottles.

She then stood at the end of the aisle. When Tazio appeared from the office, she covered his mouth from behind and touched a few pressure points. In just a second, he was laid out on the ground. It must have been done silently, because Leone hadn't even looked up from his work.

Molly stepped over the man at her feet and placed her arm behind some clear glass bottles on the middle shelf facing the counter. She swept what had to be five or six bottles of vodka off. They shattered against the tile floor, and that's when she got Leone's attention. He charged towards her, yelling something with a red face, but trailed off when he saw his brother on the ground.

Before he could make another move, Molly grabbed the top of one of the broken bottles and plowed it through his eye.

"Oh! Oh god!" Penelope screamed and took off her glasses to impair her vision.

 _"Reid! What's going on?"_ Hotch barked. Emily could be heard shouting in the background.

"She's attacking them!" Spencer winced, watching Molly remove a knife from the black bag. "Hotch hurry! You have to hurry!"

/

The lights were on inside the store, but only one car was in the parking lot. It was the one that had been registered to the Gattis.

Molly was gone.

Groans could be heard as soon as Hotch swung the glass door open. They weren't alarmed though. They knew who it was. They knew what they were going to find.

JJ had already called paramedics as well as the police. Both were coming from two towns over, given that the city of Bronte was so small. She reported that they wouldn't be there for another thirty to forty-five minutes.

Leone was chained to the railing that lined the top of the checkout counter. There was still a four inch piece of glass sticking out of his right eye and three fingers (thumb, index, and middle) were removed from each hand. They'd been laid out neatly next to the cash register.

Tazio was lucky. After she'd taken care of the older brother, Molly had started to lose steam. So she settled for tying his ankles together and hanging him from the chin-up bar extended across the office doorway. His arms had been cut up and were bleeding profusely onto the floor. But he was conscious.

"Cagna malata..." He muttered, shaking his head. His face was red after hanging upside down for the past ten minutes.

"Watch your mouth." Emily muttered, taking out her phone and checking for missed calls. She just wanted Molly to call her again. Give her an update.

Remembering Reid's accounts of what was going on in the surveillance video; JJ checked the tops of the shelves until she came across the brown paper bag that had been described. "Hey, over here."

The other two agents moved away from the 'victims' deciding that it would be better to just leave them where they were for the time being.

JJ handed the package to Emily, knowing that it was more than likely intended for her. Had this been an actual Unsub, they wouldn't have dreamt of picking up something that had been intentionally left behind at the crime scene. Not without a bomb unit or SWAT team in place at least. But it wasn't an Unsub who had left this for the FBI agents. It was Molly leaving it for someone she called a sister.

Prentiss holstered her gun, and took the bag gingerly into her hands. With shaky fingers, she unwrapped it and reached inside. As soon as she felt the cool rounded surface, she closed her eyes and ducked her head. She knew exactly what it was.

Taking a breath, she removed the urn. It was brass with a dark green enamel coating the outside. Flynn loved green.

"His ashes." Emily whispered, her lower jaw quivered.

Realizing the implications of this and what was surely going through her mind, Hotch grabbed her arm and pulled her close. The urn was now clutched to her chest between them.

"She just wants to make sure they're in good hands until she gets to safety." He assured her. JJ was well aware of their relationship, so he didn't hesitate to comfort the distraught woman. "She doesn't want to take him with her. She doesn't want him exposed to this life."

Emily nodded, biting back a small sob. She was tired. She was tired and scared. But the little kisses Aaron was pressing against the crown of her head relaxed her. They both knew that he was unsure of his words, but hearing them helped.

"Rossi and Morgan are here." JJ announced when a pair of headlights appeared through the storefront. _Hey, break it up._ Was her subtext.

They heard her loud and clear. Breaking apart, Emily wiped her eyes and gave him a watery smile. "We're going to find her." She said with a nod, as though it had been Hotch who had been having doubts. "At least we know where she's heading."

"Yep. We'll just follow the trail." Hotch smoothed his palm over her hair one last time before the other two men stormed in.

They had been briefed by JJ after Reid disconnected their call. She gave them the lowdown on what happened in the video and what to expect. Not that the two men really needed warning prior to stepping onto a gruesome crime scene. She just didn't want to hear Morgan's comments about Molly's brutality. He could be hot headed sometimes, and Emily didn't need to be hearing him exclaiming that they needed to catch Molly and lock her up.

But to her surprise, Derek surveyed the bleeding brothers and nodded. "She definitely gave them a run for their money." He commented, nudging Leone's leg with the toe of his boot. "I read up these guys. This one set a schoolhouse on fire in the eighties, killed six kids. And little brother over there, he personally enjoyed touching kids rather than setting them ablaze. They were sick bastards."

Prentiss curled her lip and leaned down to stare into Tazio's drooping eyes. "And you called Molly _sick_?" She translated his earlier insult. "I'm surprised she didn't cut off your dick." She was half tempted to perform the deed herself.

"We need to get ahead of her." Hotch said, his voice firm. "JJ, you stay here with Dave. You'll need to make sure that this remains out of the public eye. Morgan and Prentiss, we'll head her off before she gets to the next city."

The team nodded at their assignments before they split up.

/

 **Please Review! Updating Monday!**


	7. Ég Finn Ekki Skammast

****Edited a few mistakes that I caught too late! I think I need a BETA if there are any volunteers?****

 **A/N: Thank you so much to** **rmpcmfan** **and** **thehecticglow** **for your wonderful reviews. As I said before, I don't write solely for reviews, but feedback is always nice. That way I don't feel like I'm writing for an empty room! You all made my weekend!**

 **This chapter is another one that contains a lot of backstory.**

 **As usual, I own nothing.**

 _Over the years, she had learned many skills._

 _How to read, how to write, how to pass a stranger on the street and NOT assault them with a blunt object. She was slowly starting to become a normal human being._

 _The one thing she was never taught was how to actually befriend new people. Throughout her life, she had only a handful of acquaintances: Her parents, Mr. Barry, The Malloy's, and now General Laramie and Colonel Stacey. When she learned the definition of 'friend' she determined that she never had one._

 _Her parents were just that. Parents. And a quick read through her Britannica Volume No. 9 revealed that they were barely even that._

 _Mr. Barry was an enemy if anything-according to Volume 4._

 _As nice as the Malloy's were to her, they were her guardians. They were what parents were supposed to be. And though they filled the void, that she wasn't even aware was in her heart, they couldn't be friends. She needed them to remain parental figures._

 _Laramie and Stacey were her keepers. They made sure that she didn't kill. They kept her in line. She definitely didn't want them to be her friends._

 _No matter how desperate she was for some._

 _Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday she accompanied the two retired Marines to the large building downtown. The Pentagon, they had called it, was a labyrinth filled with cold rooms and fancy people. All who passed looked to be in a hurry. They were far too important to even look her was as they hurried down the gray halls._

 _Laramie sat her down in the green chair by the metal door. She spent hours in that spot every week. He handed her Volume 2 of her Encyclopedia set-this was her third time reading through it. "Be good." He ordered, throwing a wink at the secretary sitting at her desk on the other side of the room._

 _Her name was Annabelle and she seemed afraid of Molly. She always walked the long way around the waiting area to retrieve a cup of coffee and she never made eye contact. It was almost amusing._

 _Molly watched Laramie and Stacey disappear into their secret room before turning back to her book. She was just getting started on the Byzantine Empire when the scent of flowers filled her nose. It reminded her of the Malloys' farm._

 _She glanced up to see a thin woman breezing towards Annabelle's desk. She wore a black skirt and a maroon jacket with shoulder pads. Her hair was brown and pulled into a neat bun. She was beautiful._

 _"Is Mr. Prentiss occupied?" The woman's clipped voice was oddly soothing._

 _But of course, Annabelle seemed skittish. Her eyes widened and she sat up in her seat. "Um...no ma'am...they just. They just started." She gestured towards the metal doors. "I can see if he's able to-"_

 _"No, no." The older woman waved her hand. "I can wait." She sat in the chair to Molly's left and pulled a black leather binder from the satchel she'd been toting._

 _Molly watched from the corner of her eye-she at least knew how to appear to be polite. She had never seen a woman so put together. Mrs. Malloy, though quite beautiful, was always in comfy clothes around the house. She only dressed up when they were going to an officer's ball, but that normally consisted of a loose_ _up-do_ _and a plain dress._

 _This lady was dressed so nicely for it to just be a Wednesday afternoon._

 _"That is a very big book!" The voice startled her._

 _Molly darted her eyes up and felt her cheeks heat up at the woman's gaze. She had a friendly smile on her face, and she appeared harmless enough. So Molly lifted the encyclopedia up to reveal the cover._

 _"Oh my!" The lady let out a soft laugh. "I don't know if I've ever read that one."_

 _The girl furrowed her eyebrows. General Laramie had told her that everyone was required to read all the way through the encyclopedia. How else would they learn everything?_

 _"I've read it a few times." She said softly, hoping not to sound too boastful. "Number eight is my favorite."_

 _"And why is that?"_

 _"Narwhals." Molly cleared her throat. "And...And Octopuses."_

 _"Don't you mean Octopi?"_

 _"It can be either." She wasn't supposed to argue with adults, but the woman's smile told her that she didn't do anything wrong._

 _"Well, you are a very smart young lady." She beamed and held out her hand. "My name is Elizabeth."_

 _Molly stared at the offered limb for a moment before her lips twitched. She reached out and shook it. "I'm Molly."_

/

 **Interstate 20**

 **Texas**

It started raining just before they reached Van Horn.

Hotch spent the early part of the evening driving while Morgan took over from the late hours through morning. He had just made the trip to and from the West Texas town the day before, so he was a little more familiar with the route.

Emily remained in the back seat for the entire trip-the green urn clutched to her chest and her feet rested up on the front center console. Occasionally, when he knew it would go undetected by the other man in the car, Aaron would gently rub her socked foot with the back of his hand. She needed comfort and there was only so much that could be given when their relationship was as clandestine as it was.

Joseph Monti, another Italian Red Card Retiree, was Robert Payne in his new life. He owned an auto shop on the highway that stretched between the Mexican Border and the first clump of Texas cities. He repaired cars for cheap and even donated clunkers to families in need so that they could get as far as possible into the U.S.

"If only some of these guys discovered their good nature before they joined Red Card." Derek mused signaling to pull off at the next exit.

"Unfortunately helping immigrants doesn't cancel out the three families he murdered in '95." Hotch murmured, flipping through the man's file for the third time. "He stabbed his own brother when they were teenagers. Paralyzed him from the waist down."

Prentiss winced and rolled her head to look out the window. The desert landscape was certainly getting old. "Is he dangerous?" She asked, afraid of the answer.

"Mr. Payne weighed in at 460 at his last physical." Aaron assured her. "He has had two heart attacks since 2009 and has had his spleen and one kidney removed. I'm pretty sure _Reid_ could take him on."

Morgan chuckled at his boss' rare show of humor. It was obvious that he, like everyone else on the team, was just trying to keep Emily calm. She was on the brink of a panic attack, and they needed her to stay level-headed. When the time came, she was going to be the one to retrieve Molly. A familiar face was what it was going to take to get the terrified woman to snap out of it.

He took a deep breath as he turned onto the exit that would take them to the dusty town of Van Horn. If he never saw Texas again after this, it would be too soon.

/

 **Rough and Tumble Auto Shop**

 **Van Horn, Texas**

She had always loved the smell of gasoline. The fumes sometimes made her light-headed, but it was a comforting aroma all the same. She took a deep whiff as she made her way across the deserted road towards the metal building.

A man, large and hideous, sat in a rocking chair just outside of the large opened door. His snores pierced the air, indicating that not only was he asleep but he was in a deep state of unconsciousness.

Molly pulled the syringe out of her pocket. It would be a double dose this time-Monti was a big man when she had first met him in the early 2000's, so she had anticipated him doubling in size now that he was living the easy life. She wasn't wrong. The poor chair he had passed out in looked as though it were about to buckle under the weight.

Cringing, Molly pierced the needle into the back of his neck-between the fat folds-and pressed down on the plunger. Monti woke up just in time to let out a grunt and hit her in the side with one of his beefy paws. She had been shot the day before, so her pain tolerance was at an all-time high.

As soon as his body relaxed, she went around the rocker and shoved it forward until he tipped out onto the ground-that would have weighed in as a 7.8 on the Richter scale.

She took out her knife and tried to figure out the best way to go about amputating the tree trunks before her. He was too thick! Not even an axe would take care of this situation. With a sigh she settled for a simple, yet long-lasting, approach.

/

They had to have just missed her. Dust was still lingering in the air where she would have been parked. Morgan dropped them off before taking off down the road to see if he could catch her.

Pathetic whimpers came from the robust figure lying face down in the dirt. A hunting knife stuck out of his lower back. Not a fatal wound. Just a paralyzing one. Emily smiled tightly, remembering the pictures of Monti's wheelchair bound thirteen year old little brother.

"Want to call a bus?" Aaron asked gently, placing a hand between her shoulder blades. He wasn't coddling her-he just wanted to make sure she was still Prentiss. His Prentiss. His heart fluttered with relief when she nodded and pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

Her finger paused on the buttons when the device lit up. 'Unknown Caller'.

 _Molly._ She kept her hopes internalized. _It could be Molly._

Clearing her throat, she held the phone to her ear. "Prentiss."

 _"You have to catch her Emily."_ The stern voice caused two simultaneous reactions. Disappointment and fear.

"We're doing our best mother." She rolled her eyes at Hotch who took that as his cue to call the ambulance on his phone. Conversations with Elizabeth Prentiss were never short. "How did you find out?"

 _"You're not the only one with connections."_ Elizabeth said haughtily. After a beat, she elaborated. _"Your tech analyst contacted some former colleagues of mine regarding Molly Briggs and it got back to me. It didn't take long to connect the dots on all of the Red Card's suddenly being detained."_

Emily sighed. For a brief moment, she had feared that something slipped through the cracks and that the story had made national news. She should have known better than to doubt JJ's excellent negotiating skills. "You have to keep this quiet." She ordered her mother. "If they find out that she's after them-"

 _"Please Emily, I wasn't born yesterday."_ The older Prentiss huffed. _"But you have to catch her. She needs to be locked up."_

"What?" Prentiss practically shrieked. "No she doesn't!"

 _"She's cutting men up and leaving them for dead."_

"No, if she wanted them dead, they'd be dead. You know that as well as I do."

 _"Well, she's still unbalanced."_

"Mother-"

 _"She killed your brother Emily. Why must you always defend her?"_ Elizabeth snapped. _"And now she's endangering your nephew! Is he with her on her little spree? Or did she leave him behind in the wilderness to fend for himself?"_

Emily felt the air rush out of her lungs. She hadn't told her. It had been over a month, and she had failed to tell the woman that her grandson was dead. Murdered.

What the HELL was wrong with her?

The silence went on for far too long. Elizabeth said something along the lines of _"You didn't think about that did you?"_ But Emily wasn't really listening, so she couldn't be sure.

When her daughter failed to reply after nearly an entire minute, Elizabeth spoke again. This time her voice was filled with concern. _"Emily, Darling, what is it?"_ She asked gently. She must have heard the unevenness in her child's breathing. _"Are you alright? What's going on?"_

"Mother...um..." Prentiss sniffled and turned away from Hotch. He had seen her cry before, so she wasn't embarrassed, she just knew that any look he gave her-whether it be stern or sympathetic-would make her more emotional. "Flynn's...Flynn died."

It was her turn to receive silence as a response. She was relieved that she at least had the leeway to explain. "Remi Gusev, he was a friend of Nick's, he um...he kidnapped him and...He killed him." She swallowed shakily, closing her eyes when she felt Aaron's hand on her shoulder. "He shot him...right in front of us...right in front of Molly."

Elizabeth remained quiet for just a moment more. It was obvious by the muffled coughs and sniffles that she was trying to compose herself. _"Dear Lord."_ She finally whispered. _"I never even...that is...Well, I never got to meet him."_

She sounded defeated. And though Emily had learned only a few years before that her mother indeed faced the hardships of mere mortals, it was still strange to hear it in her normally strong voice.

"I know." She said.

 _"But still, she shouldn't-"_

"Mother." Emily cut her off. "We are aware of what should and shouldn't be done. But we need to worry about Molly right now. She's the victim here. There's no way around that."

When a huff of air came through the earpiece, she was absolutely positive that her mother was going to object. After Nicholas' death, she denounced Molly as a human being. She threatened to destroy her if she ever came near Emily or herself ever again. Of course, Emily made it clear to her sister-in-law that she would always be welcomed in her home.

She just wished that Molly had taken her up on the offer.

Elizabeth surprised her with a clipped. _"Yes. No, yes, that's true."_ She cleared her throat. _"She needs help."_ It wasn't the same _help_ she had been referring to for the past decade. She wasn't suggesting that she see a therapist or be admitted into a mental institution.

She was telling Emily to actually help Molly. To make sure she was safe.

"Yeah." Prentiss would have smiled had this been any other time. But her shoulders drooped from the draining tension and chest felt lighter. "I'll keep you updated."

It was something she should have been doing from the beginning. The woman went weeks without knowing that she was no longer a grandmother. Though she had never met Flynn, she still had a picture of him on her desk-one of him sitting in the snow outside of his Alaskan home-the only one Molly had ever sent them.

When Emily lowered the phone, Aaron edged slightly closer. He had been focusing all of his attention on Monti. The half-conscious man was still grunting at their feet and it was obvious that he wouldn't be getting up and running any marathons-with or without the knife in his spine-but he had to look at something.

"I can't believe I never told her." She finally sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I didn't tell my own mother about her grandson's death."

"It was a strange time." Hotch tried to comfort her, but her knew his words would fall on deaf ears. "You were recovering from your abduction, worrying about Molly, and we had so many cases. It's no surprise that it slipped through the cracks."

Prentiss sniffled and nodded jerkily. Of course, she didn't really feel better, but now was not the time to be worrying about things that couldn't be changed. She'd make it up to her mother when she got home.

/

Reid had never hated being out of the field more than he did at that moment.

Generally, he would jump at the chance to stay behind and work the profile of their Unsubs. His brain thrived on delving into human nature and detecting patterns. And while that held true over the past couple of days, he was starting to feel his hands shake.

Molly's profile was done. All of her victims'-both past and future-profiles were done. He had even profiled Nicholas and Flynn Prentiss, hoping to find something, _anything_ , that would help him see into the mind of the complex nature of the former CIA Assassin.

Now he sat, staring at the timeline he had made for no other reason but to keep his hands busy. Garcia had gone to get their lunch and their phones hadn't made a sound since Hotch called to report the stabbing of Joseph Monti.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Then twenty.

Garcia came just as he noticed the oddity.

"Was Sergeant Malloy Molly's guardian until she joined the CIA?" He asked, startling the sandwich toting blonde.

Penelope narrowed her eyes in deep thought before logging on to her computer. "Yes...Yes?" She cocked her head to the side. "At least, that's what her file tells me. But given the all-in-all sketchiness of this entire investigation, I'd feel inclined to look further into it if your gut is concerned."

Spencer bit his lower lip and clicked his teeth, not taking his eyes off of the papers taped to the board in front of him. "Sergeant Timothy Malloy and his wife Vivien signed off on everything Molly required from 1989 until early '91." He pointed to printouts from Molly's annual physicals. "The last thing they signed off on was a therapy visit right her tenth birthday. After that, the signatures were replaced with just an 'X'."

"That wouldn't be permissible in a doctor's office." Garcia said.

"No, no it _shouldn't_ be." Reid agreed. It went without saying that many things throughout Molly's upbringing weren't necessarily permissible. "Were there any other therapy sessions on record?"

Penelope scrolled, scrolled, typed, and scrolled before shaking her head. "Eh, eh." She sounded out as she licked her bottom lip. "She was actually the only one in her graduating class that bypassed the mandatory psych evaluation. General Arnold Laramie cleared her both mentally and physically." Her jaw tensed when she got to the last page of her academy paperwork. "And check out that signature."

She turned her computer towards him, revealing the sloppy 'X' scribbled on the bottom line of her evaluation page.

/

The ambulance arrived just as Derek pulled up in the SUV. He was shaking his head as he jumped out and made his way over to them.

"I followed some tire tracks out to the main road, but when it went from dirt to asphalt I couldn't tell which way they went." He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "She's probably going to the next location."

She was up to one capture a day. If she had been an Unsub, this would have been more alarming. And had they not been concerned for Molly's safety, they would have been impressed.

"Same as before, we'll need to move fast." Hotch gave JJ's card to the Van Horn Police Chief. "Please contact Agent Jareau as soon as possible."

With that, he led his agents towards the car. His phone rang just as he was climbing into the driver's seat. "What do you have Reid?" He gave a quick look to his surroundings as he pulled back out onto the dirt road.

 _"Hotch, there might be a bit of a situation."_ The young man's voice practically quivered on the other end.

"What is it?" Hotch put it on speaker and handed it to Morgan, trying to focus as much as possible on the rough drive.

 _"The Malloy's guardianship over Molly seemed to dissolve literally overnight in '91. A General Laramie took her under his wing after that."_

"General Laramie was her mentor while she was in the academy." Emily recalled. "He brought her over to our house for dinner all the time. We just assumed she was his ward or something. My father never mentioned that there was anything off about it."

 _"She's the sole-beneficiary on his will and he had a substantial trust fund set up under her name. He was never married nor did he have children, so he probably just presented her as the child of a fallen comrade. It's not uncommon for commanding officers to adopt the orphans of their men. It's a way to alleviate the guilt."_ Spencer rambled. _"But the thing is there is no record of Sergeant Malloy or his wife's death. They took her to therapy one day and disappeared the next."_

"Someone didn't like that she was getting help." Derek deduced, glancing at his boss and then Emily.

"So what does this have to do with what's happening now?" Hotch demanded. As harsh as he was being, it was for the best. They couldn't afford to be pulling at the threads of insignificant leads.

Shuffling came from the other end. Judging Reid, he was probably adjusting the phone against his shoulder so that he could rifle through his papers with both hands. _"General Laramie is the one who took Molly from the people who were willing to help her. He harvested her into a monster and made sure that she didn't have a moment of clarity."_ He explained. _"If she's going after wrong-doer's he should be at the top of her list."_

"So if he's still alive, she'd be saving him for last." Emily said.

 _"He is still alive. He's in a Veteran's home in Walsenburg, Colorado."_ Reid told them. _"That's eight hours from you guys."_

"If she's feeling the pressure then she might move him to the top of her list." Morgan began to look up the location of the home. "We should head there next!"

Hotch nodded and pressed down on the accelerator when they hit the highway. "Call Rossi and have him and JJ head to the next Red Card location. It's very possible that she will want to stick to her order." He sighed and looked in the rear view mirror at Emily. She was gnawing on her thumbnail and staring at off into space, her brows furrowed with worry. "If nothing else, we'll get answers from Laramie."

Prentiss paused and shifted her gaze towards his. Sitting up, she bit her lower lip and nodded.

/


	8. Ég er Helvíti þitt

_Her feet were cold and felt wet. She was walking so fast. Why did she have to walk so fast?_

 _Looking up at the man pulling her along the dark hallway, she wrinkled her nose. "Where's Sergeant?" She whispered. They had walked right past his and Vivien's bedroom without even pausing._

 _"I think you know little one." The stranger growled, picking her up for the short journey down the stairs. When he set her back down on the cold tile of the foyer, her feet nearly slid out from under her._

 _"Something's on me..." She tried to bend down to wipe it off. It was making it hard to walk. It was uncomfortable. She preferred to be clean. Vivien taught her how to be and she had to stay that way._

 _The man grabbed her elbow and yanked her upright. "You can wash up later."_

 _His voice was so mean. Her father didn't even speak to her like that. Molly furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. He actually resembled her father. Well, he had pale skin and black hair. That was pretty much it. His nose was wider and his lips were puffier._

 _"Where's Sergeant?" She asked again, her tone nearly matching his. If he could be rude then so could she._

 _He ignored her, pulling her out the front door and pushing her across the porch towards another man in black. This one caught her and picked her up immediately, not even giving her a chance to walk._

 _She was okay with that. At least dirt wouldn't stick to her wet feet._

 _There was a big car parked behind the Malloy's' van. It was black too. That must have been their favorite color._

 _It was when they opened the door to put her in the backseat that she saw it. The overhead light shone down on her illuminating her pink nightgown as well as the exposed limbs sticking out of it. A thick red substance covered her bare feet and spread up her legs. She let out a gasp when she saw it on her hands and arms as well._

 _How had she not noticed that?_

 _Looking up to the men, who were now seated in the front, her jaw quivered. "I-I think I'm hurt...?" She didn't feel pain. But Sergeant told her that was normal._

 _He'd said that when someone experiences as many emotions as she did, their mind gets confused and they don't always feel what they ought to feel._

 _The first man-the mean one-curled his upper lip and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, there's something wrong with you." He sneered before turning around and starting the car._

 _Molly felt all over. She wasn't cut anywhere. There was blood in her hair, on the back of her neck, under her fingernails, and pretty much everywhere else. Except...her nightgown. There was some along the edges where it met her calves and wrists, and in the areas where she had touched it. But it was otherwise clean._

 _It was familiar. Too familiar._

 _Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and looked back at the farmhouse as they drove away. "Where's Sergeant? Where's Vivien?" She demanded, pulling on the door handle, but to no avail. She raised her voice, staring holes into the back of the men's' heads. "WHERE'S SERGEANT? WHERE'S VIVIEN?"_

 _/_

 **Highway 206**

 **New Mexico**

"I think I'm ready to go home now." Flynn sniffled as they crossed the parking lot.

They had stopped off just outside of Clovis, New Mexico for lunch. A cold front was passing through so it was down in the thirties now. Molly smiled down at her son. At least he wouldn't be too warm in his coat and hat.

When she stepped inside the diner, she had to stop herself from asking the hostess for a table for two. She knew that Flynn was just there for her. He didn't want to be seen by anyone else. It was how he was raised.

He sat next from her, not across. Something he had done when they were on one of their few road trips during his early childhood. He loved being near mommy.

Molly's chest flooded with warmth when he rested his head against her shoulder. She replied by leaning down and placing her ear against his red curls. "Want pancakes?" She asked quietly, closing her eyes when he nodded.

She would only order one meal, but it would be one that he loved.

/

"She's not answering." Emily huffed tossing her phone in the seat next to her.

She had been trying to contact her mother for the past hour, hoping that she could give them some insight on General Laramie. For the first fifteen minutes, it would ring a twice then go to voicemail-she was ignoring the calls-and for the last forty-five minutes it just went to voicemail-she had turned her phone off.

Was she mad that Emily hadn't told her about Flynn? Was that really her issue right now?

They were still about four hours away from the hospital and she was getting impatient. She even let out a growl when Aaron pulled into the gas station. She quieted down when her boyfriend-along with Morgan-gave her a half-glare.

"Prentiss, if you'd like to push the car from here to Colorado I can let the gas run out." Hotch said dryly, motioning for Derek to get out and pump. Once they were alone, he lowered his voice and took off his sunglasses as he turned to fully face her. "Sweetheart, we'll get there when we get there. Please don't give yourself an ulcer in the meantime."

He had to make sure that Morgan wasn't watching them before reaching back to rub her knee, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless. Emily's face softened and she nodded.

"I'm sorry." She sighed, grasping his fingers in her own. "It's just-" She trailed off, unsure of how to appropriately voice her frustrations.

But as usual, words weren't needed. He simply smiled and gave her leg one more squeeze. "I know." He said, turning and opening his door. "I'm going to see what they're passing off as coffee inside, want anything?"

"A Snickers." She muttered, adding just as the door closed behind him, "And a Mountain Dew! A big one!"

His smirk accompanied by a nod indicated that he'd heard her.

/

 **Spanish Peaks Regional Health Center**

 **Walsenburg, CO**

The woman at the front desk was dressed in pastel scrubs. It washed out her already pale skin, but she her kind smile and cheery voice helped Molly to look past it.

"How can I help you today?"

The redhead cleared her throat and took out her wallet. "Um...yes." She removed her ID from the plastic casing and slid it across the counter. "I'm here to visit General Laramie, General Arnold Laramie."

"Oh." The woman's smile fell immediately. She set down the folders she had been organizing and held up a shaky finger. "One...One moment please."

Molly nodded, furrowing her brows once the nurse scampered off. She had seemed scared. It was strange to witness that apprehension in the eyes of someone she _wasn't_ killing or maiming. She didn't much like it.

/

 _"Hotch, Molly just arrived at the hospital."_ Garcia's voice came through the speaker phone. She had hacked into the video feed an hour before. _"She's in the lobby, waiting at the nurses' station."_

"Dialing," Emily leaned between the front seats as she hit the button to connect her to the main line. She placed it next to Hotch's phone and rested her chin on her hand, listening to the rings.

 _"Spanish Peaks,"_ A clipped voice answered.

"This is Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI," Hotch put on his most authoritative voice. "I need you to do something for me."

/

Molly stood up straight when the nurse came back around the corner. Walking beside her was a tall man in a lab coat. Their faces looked severe and their postures tense. When they were about ten feet away, she felt a harsh tap on her shoulder.

"Miss. Prentiss?"

She turned to see a portly nurse with short curly hair.

"Yes?"

"Here." The woman shoved a cordless phone into her hands and stood with her arms crossed, as though she feared she'd take off with it.

With a shaky hand, Molly held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

 _"Molly!"_

She closed her eyes and let out a breath. How the hell had they found her?

"Emmy, please go home!"

 _"You know I can't."_ The older woman's voice was determined. _"Please just stay where you are! If you do this, there will be no turning back."_

Molly scoffed. "I can _do_ anything." She wasn't bragging. She was simply stating a fact. "I'm immune Emily. I can kill the next man I see if I perceive him as a threat."

She could hear the nurse audibly swallow and take a step back.

The silence on the other end told her that Emily had no argument. She had made her point.

 _"But you know what you're doing is stupid. You know that right?"_

"I'm doing what's right, Emmy. That I know." Molly turned to look at the nurse and doctor, who were standing behind the desk, watching her warily. She held the phone away from her ear and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "General Laramie?"

Clearing his throat, the doctor nodded towards the small waiting area to the right. "Can we speak in private?" He requested, his eyes drifting to the phone.

She could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage at his tone. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her hands felt clammy.

 _"Molly?"_ Emily's voice sounded from the earpiece. _"What's going on? Molly? Molly!"_

"I have to go." Molly whispered. "Love you Emmy."

She hung up before anything else could be said. With steely eyes and squared shoulders, she nodded at the doctor with a tight smile. "Let's talk."

/

The two men winced at the shouts coming from the backseat. They felt the frustration rolling off of her, and it seeped in with their own emotions.

"Something's wrong...Something...Something happened!" Emily chewed on her thumbnail and shook her head. She heard the deep voice, the one of someone who bore bad news. She knew that whatever had been said to Molly was going to be a game changer. And as if it were at all possible, it would make things so much worse.

Hotch flexed his hands on the steering wheel, watching for the turnoff onto Interstate 25. Two more hours. They weren't going to make it on time. He knew that. She had evaded them in Van Horn and they were only _minutes_ behind her.

But he kept his thoughts quiet. There was no need to instill more fear into Emily's heart. He stared sadly into the rearview mirror, hating the pain that was so evident in her eyes. In only a matter of months, his carefree girl had become disquieted and anxious.

He just wanted it to get better for her.

/

At the end of the hall, where the lights were dimmer and the scent of disinfectant was just a little stronger, was a room. He had been the only one in there, given his condition.

"We only have until noon tomorrow to take him off of life-support." Silva told her. "He signed a DNI when he first arrived here, but for some reason he wanted forty-eight hours on the machines. Now we know why he wanted to hold out."

Molly nodded and pretended to sniffle. She would play the emotional ward of the once 'great' war General. If it meant she could be left alone with him, she would even force out a tear or two. "I just wish someone had called."

"We didn't have a number for you." His voice went up at the end. He was worried about any legal ramifications that might result from their lack of vigilance.

But Molly put him at ease. "No, I understand. It's not your fault." She let out a watery sigh when they reached the doorway. "I would have just liked to have been there for him, you know?"

 _So I could have shoved gravel in his feeding tube._

It had been a stroke that finally did General Laramie in. The man who had fought in three wars and killed hundreds of men in cold blood, was brought down by his own brain. She would have laughed if she weren't so bitter.

 _Asshole couldn't even let me do the honors._

Silva murmured something about privacy before heading off down the hall. Molly nodded politely at him and waited a few seconds. When the clicking of his fancy loafers faded into the distance, her smile dropped and she turned to glare at the vegetable lying only five feet away from her.

"Well, well, well."

/

 _Neil Prentiss was a kind man._

 _When Molly first met him-coming out of the metal door behind General Laramie and Colonel Stacey-_ _he_ _had a huge grin on his face. It was obviously one he had reserved just for his wife._

 _Elizabeth (she had scolded Molly when she tried to call her MS. Elizabeth) wasted no time in introducing her to her husband. Neil knelt down in from of her and held out a large hand for her to shake._

 _"Hello Molly." His smile was genuine, kind. "What beautiful hair you have!"_

 _The eleven year old tilted her head and quickly peaked down at the red braids hanging over her shoulders. She had never considered her hair to be 'beautiful'. Vivien was the kindest woman she had ever met and she never even mentioned it. She did always tease her when they got food from a restaurant called 'Wendy's' and compare her to the cartoon on the bag._

 _"She's not very talkative." General Laramie's tone was odd. He didn't sound as harsh as he normally did. If he was anyone else, she would have thought that there was laughter in his words._

 _"Oh, I disagree." Elizabeth placed a hand on the girl's knee. "She has been quite chatty for the past hour." She gave her husband a pointed look. He had apparently taken longer in the meeting than she would have liked._

 _Colonel Stacey, who rarely ever spoke, raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He turned to Molly, his lip curled. "And what did you talk to Ambassador Prentiss about Molly?"_

 _Ambassador?_

 _Volume Number 1 told her that Ambassadors were_ _ **very**_ _important people. She couldn't recall their actual duties, but she did know that they were the ones sent to other countries as spokespeople. That had to be a big deal._

 _Elizabeth,_ _ **Ambassador**_ _Elizabeth, spoke up for Molly. "We spoke of sea life." She said matter-of-factly. "She told me all about the different types of whales and sharks and...What was that one you spoke of darling? The one that changes its appearance?"_

 _Molly simpered and flicked her eyes over to Laramie as she responded. "The Mimic Octopus. They change their size and color to look like other animals. Sometimes they even turn themselves into rocks. They...they..." She trailed off when her two guardians exchanged glances._

 _Was she talking too much? That had never been a problem for her in the past, so she didn't know what the rule was._

 _Sensing her disease, Elizabeth stood from her seat. "Molly, would you and your friends like to join us for lunch?" She asked. "We're meeting our daughter at 1789. She would love to hear about your favorite fish."_

 _Molly didn't actually like fish. She preferred mammals and cephalopods, but she wouldn't waste time clarifying._

 _A look at Laramie and Stacey told her that they were in no position to turn the offer down._

 _"We...we would enjoy that." The General cleared his throat._

 _"Great. Molly can ride with us." Elizabeth gave them a sickeningly sweet smile before taking the girl's hand and leading her towards the exit._

 _Neil was right at their heels, smirking at his wife's impudence. It was off putting to most people, but to him it was one of her most endearing traits. If his Lizzie wanted something, she made sure she got it._

/

This was the second time she read through the paperwork that Dr. Silva gave her. Form after form and clause after clause requested that he be given no more than two days to recuperate before they put into effect his 'Do Not Intubate' and 'Do Not Resuscitate' orders.

In less than-she checked her watch-eighteen hours, he would be given reprieve. He would get to go peacefully into the beyond. She was never taught religion, but from what she heard of Hell, she hoped it existed. Laramie's name was flashing in neon lights down there.

"You smell horrible." She informed him, setting the papers on the nightstand by his bed. "Did you crap yourself? That must have been embarrassing."

His eyes remained focused on her. They had been from the moment she entered. At first, they'd widened in trepidation. He hadn't seen the girl he'd destroyed in nearly thirteen years. Frankenstein was reunited with his monster.

Now, his gray orbs were hazy as his lids drooped over them. He was drugged up. Big time. It was another one of his cowardly requests-Make sure he doesn't feel a damn thing.

Molly cleared her throat and picked at her nail beds. "Flynn's dead." She muttered, looking down at her reddening fingertips. "He was killed by one of Nick's allies."

When she lifted her head again, her stomach rolled at the crinkled corners of his eyes. If he had the strength, he would have _actually_ smiled at this news. Bastard.

"You never wanted me to have that did you?" She powered through her rage. "Normalcy. You didn't...you didn't want me to give a child a happy life. You wanted me to raise another little killer. And then he could have raised his killers, and so forth. It would have been a whole lineage of ruthless assassins. Soon, we would evolve into actual _heartless_ creatures."

The General blinked once. Twice. Three times. He couldn't move. According to his chart, he was paralyzed from the neck down, but he would more than likely lose all of his senses in the course of a few days. His entire bloodstream had been affected and each of his brain's lobes were damaged.

"What a terrible thing to happen to a person." Molly changed the subject with a sigh and picked up his file again. "It's a good thing you'll be put out of your misery soon, right?" She stood up and brushed imaginary dust off of her legs.

His eyes continued to follow her and she knew that if it were possible, he would have sagged with relief when she made her way towards the door.

"You know." She paused, resting her fingertips on the cool silver knob, and turned her head ever so slightly to look at him. "It really shows just how alone you are, that you have _me_ as your Power of Attorney. You must have been very desperate."

Staring at the papers, pretending to be in deep thought, she sniffled and gave him one more smile. "I should go speak with your doctor." She said with a shrug. "Make sure that he knows that there will be some changes in your care. As your only _living_ loved one, I want to make sure that you get the very best treatment."

Again, Laramie's eyes grew wide. A small grunt came from his throat. It was his only argument.

Molly stuck out her lower lip, pasting a look of anguish on her face. "We'll have so much more time with you Papa." Her voice cracked. "It's what you would have wanted."

She stepped out and closed the door behind her so that the nurses down the hall wouldn't hear the rapid beeping coming from his heart rate monitor. Clearing her throat, she smiled to herself as she pulled the necessary forms out of the stack.

Only a few signatures. That was all it would take to make sure that General Laramie got a few more months of extra pain before he made his trip to hell.


	9. Ég er Draumur þinn

**A/N: I'm thinking there will only be one more chapter after this one. After that I might go on to regular CM-Hotchniss fics. I just felt like getting this idea out of my head while it lingered. Hopefully it's been at least a little entertaining!**

 **Please review!**

She had spent the past decade of her life living in Alaska, so the view that surrounded her wasn't all that impressive. Sure, Colorado had some gorgeous scenery, but she'd definitely seen better.

On the roof of the hospital was a small shed filled with tools and old wheelchairs. She climbed on top of it and opened up the bottle of Sprite she had gotten from the vending machine just down the hall from Laramie's room. The cool beverage soothed her throat and elicited an involuntary "hmmm" as she pulled the bottle away from her lips. She sounded like she was in a damn commercial.

Chuckling, she set the drink aside and stretched her arms out in front of herself. She could have fallen asleep right then and there if she wanted to. Well, she did _want_ to, but she couldn't.

Now that the General was dealt with, she had a few more people to see to. She was nowhere near finished.

But for some reason, she wanted to stay. Just a little longer.

"Mom! I see one!" The voice startled her.

She looked down towards the lower roof to smile at her boy. He had the little metal telescope she had gotten him for his eighth birthday held up to his eye. One of his feet was up on the ledge surrounding the roof and his elbows rested on his knee as he gazed out across the sky.

He looked like an adorable little pirate.

"What do you see buddy?" Molly asked, taking another sip of her drink.

"A bluebird! It really _is_ blue!"

"Well, what did you expect ding-dong?"

He grinned and glanced over his shoulder. "I thought it would be more gray." He informed her patiently. "They say gray cats are blue and gray dogs are blue. I thought it would be the same."

She stuck out her lower lip and nodded. Well, he had a point there.

Flynn hopped down from his perch and half-ran, half-galloped over to the shed. He made no move to climb up and join her; he just stood at the bottom and squinted up at her. "Bruce will be blue." He said with a firm nod. "Blue with white paws."

She arched a brow. "Bruce?"

"Our dog."

"I thought we were going to wait until we _met_ the dog to name it." She of course was going to let him choose the name regardless, so it didn't really matter. She was just curious about the change.

The boy shrugged one shoulder and picked at the end of a feather that was coming out of his jacket sleeve. "I just think it will fit no matter what. Bruce is a good, strong name. And we're getting a good, strong dog. It just makes sense."

Again, she couldn't argue with him. His logic was always flawless.

"Well, Bruce it is then."

/

"Is that her car?" Emily pointed to the Wagoneer with wood paneling the second they pulled into the hospital's parking lot. It was in a spot in the last row, but it was in plain sight.

Hotch responded with a short, "Mhm," as he whipped the SUV into the carport by the entrance.

Thinking that they had an emergency, a nurse rushed out with a wheelchair. She paused when she saw the three young and perfectly healthy people jump out and flash their badges at her. "I'm sorry." She let out a huff. "May I help you?"

"Ma'am, we're looking for General Arnold Laramie." Derek placed himself in front of Prentiss, knowing that if given the chance, his partner would jump down the startled woman's throat for answers. She was frantic and terrified that time was running out, so her normal calm was thrown out the window.

The nurse's mouth parted in confusion. Her brows furrowed as she looked from one agent to the next. "He's on the third floor...is this about his daughter?"

Not bothering to correct her, Emily made her way through the front doors into the warm lobby. "Is she still here?"

More of the hospital staff jumped up from their respective places when they saw their badge and gun wielding guests. The first nurse waved her hands frantically at a tall dark skinned doctor standing behind the front desk. "Dr. Silva!" Her voice squeaked. "The FBI is here! About...about General Laramie!"

Silva tilted his head and glanced down at the file he was just having revised in the system. Had he missed something?

/

 _It was the second time in her life that she had woken up to such a sterile smell._

 _Squinting her eyes open, she winced when she was greeted with the harsh fluorescent lights above her bed. "What...?" Her voice cracked and it felt as though she had swallowed a bucket of sand. "Where...?"_

 _"Good morning sunshine." A familiar voice came from her left. And though she was always prepared for any sort surprise, whether good or bad, she almost jumped at the sight of the dark haired man sitting in the chair by the door._

 _"Nick?" She hated herself for whimpering._

 _His eyes softened as he stood up and approached the bed slowly, cautiously. "How are you feeling?"_

 _Molly gave him a look, letting him know just how ridiculous his question was. "You know that's to be determined."_

 _He laughed and bobbed his head up and down. "Of course. Sorry."_

 _Moments passed, and they stared at each other in silence._

 _It had been nearly a month since their last visit. He had met up with her in Pasadena the week she was going after three brothers who were thought to be involved in Abu Sayyaf. She had taken them out in one day-the idiots went out to eat at a café only three blocks from their headquarters. She was able to walk onto the patio, slit all three throats, and walk away in less than fifteen seconds._

 _So she rendezvoused with Nick in a motel thirty miles north and they had a wonderful time. He took her to dinner and to a museum. It was a nice three days filled with NO killing. Those were the best days._

 _"What happened?" She asked, not missing the twitch in his brow and tightening of his jaw._

 _"You...you don't remember?"_

 _Molly rolled her eyes and snorted. "Well, I remember chasing after Vilches." She informed him. "He jumped out of his car on the bridge, so I had to go after him on foot."_

 _Nick chewed on his lower lips and rubbed his fingertips across his chin. He nearly had a full beard now. "You chased him into a construction site." He filled in the blanks when she didn't continue. "They really don't know what happened, but the workers showed up on Monday morning to find him dead and you hanging from an elevator cable twelve stories up."_

 _"Hanging?" She racked her brain, fighting through the drugs that had been pumped into her system._

 _"Yeah..." He cleared his throat lowered his eyes. "It had wrapped around your leg. They think that you had to have been there for at least eight hours. All of your blood had rushed to your head and they were worried about brain damage. I told them your brain couldn't get any more damaged." He chuckled, but his joke fell on deaf ears._

 _Molly was staring at her lower half. She was reclined almost to the point of sitting up-probably a method to regulate her blood flow-and a blanket covered her from the waist down. Beneath the white sheets, she could make out the outline of her waist and beyond that were two lumps with a space between. One lump was much shorter than the other._

 _Her mind was still a little fuzzy, so it took her nearly a whole minute to register what was wrong. "Where...what?" She pointed to her left leg-whole from thigh to toe-and then to her right. Just below her knee, there was nothing. But it felt heavy still. Why did it not feel any different? "Nick! What the hell?"_

 _"The wire cut off the circulation." He closed his eyes as he spoke. "By the time they cut you down, the limb was as good as dead."_

 _For a moment, he stood staring. Waiting for the inevitable breakdown that was sure to come._

 _But it didn't happen._

 _She just let out a shuddery breath and nodded. "Okay." Her hands shook as she tucked the blanket tighter around the uneven limbs. She wasn't ready to actually see the damage yet. "Um...could I get some water?"_

/

Flynn found an old box of chalk in the corner of the roof. It had melted with the rainfall from a few days back and then re-hardened, so it wasn't as easy to write with, but he made do.

"Should it be one or two stories?" He called up to her.

She was still sitting on the roof of the shed, resting back on the palm of her hands and staring out at the mountains. They were miles away, but the sheer size of them almost made it look like they were within walking distance.

Blinking, she peered down at her boy. "I'm sorry, what was that kiddo?"

"The clubhouse." He pointed to his detailed sketch. "Mr. Azure will be back next week. I have to have a plan ready!"

His large eyes were serious and his jaw was set. He was so focused on his task.

Mr. Azure, the kind Inuit man who lived a few miles down the hill from them in Alaska, promised to help Flynn build a treehouse in the large Shore Pine just behind their house. He told the boy that as soon as he returned from his annual winter retreat in the tundra, he would get started. So naturally, that was all the ten year old could talk about.

"Let's start with one story, and then maybe when you're a little older, you can add another." Molly reasoned, sitting up and wiping off her hands.

"Yeah." Flynn grinned and went back to his plans. "I can build it myself by then!"

"Yeah." She echoed him with a small laugh.

It was quiet then.

And as though Mother Nature was waiting for the silence, snowflakes began to drift slowly from the sky.

The two Prentiss' tilted their heads back and sniffed the air, as they always did with first snowfalls. Nothing purified the air like winter.

"Can we play in it?" Flynn dropped the chalk and began climbing to his feet. He looked down the hill at the little field that rested just between the trees. He had mentioned earlier that it would be the ideal location to build an army of snowmen. Their current record was sixty-two.

Shrugging, Molly glanced up at the clouds that were quickly shifting from white to gray. "Give it a few minutes, let's see if it sticks." But when she looked back down at the rooftop, the boy was gone. "Flynn?"

He was nowhere in sight.

"Flynn?" She continued to call his name as she stumbled into the standing position on top of the shed and turned around. "Buddy! Where are you? Wait for mommy!"

Without hesitation, she leapt the ten feet down to the asphalt and checked the area he had just been drawing in. But the chalk was gone and the dark roof was clean.

/

 _"Hey Morgan!"_ Spencer's voice finally came through the other end.

"Finally!" Derek huffed, taking the phone off of speaker and holding it to his ear. Hotch and Prentiss were on the other side of the lot, going through Molly's car, so they weren't able to listen in anyway. "Where the hell have you been man? I've tried calling you like a thousand times!"

 _"Really? You called me_ _ **one thousand**_ _times?"_ The genius/smartass replied.

"Well, closer to twenty, but still a lot!" Derek growled. He really didn't have time for the kid's antics right now. "Listen, Hotch wants you over here ASAP! JJ and Rossi are on their way up now. We've almost locked in on Molly, but we need to regroup."

 _"Yeah, I'm way ahead of you."_ Reid responded dryly.

"What do you mean?"

 _"I'm pulling up to the hospital now. But, listen Morgan-"_

"Damn man, I'm impressed!" Derek let out a laugh when he caught sight of the SUV rolling up to the driveway. "You rode the jet all by yourself like a big boy?"

 _"Well, yes, but something-"_

He was cut off again by the older agent.

"Spence, I'll see you in two seconds. We can catch up then." Morgan hissed out a chuckled as he hung up and slid the phone back onto his belt clip.

It was when the vehicle approached that he saw two figures sitting inside. He tilted his head and wandered over slowly. When the passenger's door opened he couldn't stop the shudder that ran up his spine.

"Ambassador Prentiss." He greeted, straightening up and holding out his hand.

The stern woman nodded and shook the offered limb. "Agent Morgan." She said shortly before turning and walking briskly towards Prentiss and Hotchner.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Morgan turned on Spencer. "Where the hell did she come from?" He still whispered, just in case supersonic hearing ran in the family.

"She just showed up in Little Rock." Reid held up his hands in defense. "She demanded to be taken to where Emily was and suddenly we were on the jet...she may have drugged me." He looked up and tried to recall the events that brought them to the current situation.

Rolling his eyes, Morgan clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Let's stick with that story okay?"

They watched apprehensively as the Ambassador strolled up to the Wagoneer with her hands resting casually in the pockets of her gray pea coat. Emily was just pulling herself out of the backseat with a little black suitcase, when she saw the figure approaching.

After a quick double take and a dropped jaw, they knew that this was just as shocking for her. "Mother?" She all but screamed. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Molly?" As usual, Elizabeth treated her daughter's inquiry as a rhetorical one.

Hotchner, though slightly more tense than usual, was more capable of a response at the moment. "That's what we're trying to figure out ma'am."

For some reason, he wasn't all that shocked by the older Prentiss' presence. She was always one to take control of situations that were seen to be way beyond her control. But if she thought that she could do a better job, then she was like a dog with a bone. In Politics, that was a great characteristic, but in the real world it wasn't all that charming.

"Why would she want to see this man?" Elizabeth demanded, pointing in the direction of the hospital. "He's the reason-"

"Yeah, we know." Emily snapped. She always reverted to her teenage self when addressing the strong-willed woman. "She wasn't here for a friendly visit."

Aaron made sure that Spencer was with them before continuing for his angry girl. "We think that her initial plan was to hurt General Laramie in some way. Possibly by amputation or some other means to exact revenge." He held up a hand when Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask for clarification. "But when she arrived, she was told that the General suffered a paralyzing stroke and had been put on life support. He was to be taken off of it by tomorrow."

" _Was_?" Elizabeth crossed her arms and glanced between the Unit Chief and her daughter, almost afraid to ask her next question. "Did she...did she kill him?"

"The opposite actually." Prentiss responded, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. "She signed a waiver to keep him alive by any means necessary."

"And used the money from the trust fund he set up for her to pay the bills." Morgan added. "It's estimated give him years' worth of treatment if that's what it takes."

"What's his quality of life?" Spencer asked. His brows furrowed as he internally ran through everything he knew about strokes.

"There isn't one." Hotch said simply. "His brain was totally affected and his body is virtually useless. He's a vegetable." He tried to sound sad, or at least a little regretful. But from what he'd read, General Laramie was a disgusting human being. And that was going by what had actually been published. Who knew what he did off of the government's radar?

Elizabeth processed the information for a moment before letting out a small breath. "So she just prolonged his suffering?"

"An eye for an eye." Emily said with a sniffle.

Her mother shocked her with a tight, almost proud, grin. "Damn right."

/

 _Molly watched the older girl-woman, actually-pick through her salad. She had removed the purple onion slices as well as the black olives and set them on the small bread plate to her left._

 _"So, what grade are you in?"_

 _The girl raised her eyes from the hands to their owner. Emily, Elizabeth had called her, was pretty. She had long dark hair, hanging in waves around her shoulders, and pink lipstick. Molly had always wanted to wear lipstick._

 _Realizing what she had been asked, she perked up and looked across Elizabeth and Neil to General Laramie. Grade? What was a grade? Was she supposed to be in one?_

 _"Molly isn't following the traditional timeline as far as her education goes." Laramie told the table. "She's studying history, mathematics, and all of that. But her levels are varied. We're finding that it works quite well given her condition."_

 _He level a glare in the girl's direction and she felt her shoulders sag. Somehow she had said the wrong thing without even opening her mouth._

 _"Condition?" Emily wrinkled her nose. "What's her-"_

 _"Emily, don't be coarse." Elizabeth whispered._

 _Her daughter narrowed her eyes and turned back to Molly. "I hear you like the ocean." She decided that changing the subject was her safest bet._

 _"I like water." Molly clarified, looking up from her own meal. Laramie ordered her grilled chicken with a side of steamed broccoli. The blander the better._

 _Emily smiled, her teeth were so pretty and straight. And like her mother, her face was kind. "Do you like to swim? We just got a new pool at the house. It's heated and..." She trailed off when Molly's face went from hopeful, to doubtful as she gave another sideways glance to her guardians. Nibbling on her lip, she turned to confront the men. "She's allowed to swim right? Do her studies allow that?"_

 _The General straightened up and wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. He looked to Neil and Elizabeth, to silently request that they see to their daughter, but was thrown off by the couples' expectant looks._

 _"Is physical education not a part of her tutelage?" The Ambassador's perfect eyebrows arched in feigned shock._

 _Laramie cleared his throat and tilted his head. "She runs every morning." He said shortly, going back to his soup._

 _Emily's glare remained on the man for a moment before she softened it and looked back to Molly. "Well, since you definitely need some variety, I insist that you come to the pool at least once a week. It's great for your heart and muscles."_

 _"And it also helps to relieve stress." Neill added, swallowing the last of his sandwich. He looked to his two subordinates. "What do you say gentlemen? Every Saturday?"_

 _As if they could argue with him._

/

There wasn't a ladder that lead down from the roof, so she had to go back the way she came. She hurried down the stairwell, not making eye contact with the nurses that walked by. One of them even asked if she was alright, so she simply grunted a reply.

Bursting through the side door, Molly sucked in a gulp full of air as she tried to get her bearings. The hill leading down to the field was to her right and the parking lot was to the left. She froze when she saw the group gathered around her car.

She knew they were catching up to her, but the sight of them so close made her heart skip a beat. For a moment, her feet began to stumble towards them. She needed to embrace reality, and in order to do so, she needed to speak to someone who was in touch with it. Emily could help her. The older woman was the only person, other than Flynn, who could keep her grounded.

But a soft voice from behind her stopped her in her tracks.

It was far away. It was a miracle that she'd heard anything at all. But she knew what it was.

"Flynn?" She looked back towards the trees. "Honey, make sure your jacket is zipped." Without looking back, she ran down the steep hill.

No matter what, she would always go to her son.


	10. Ég er Ekkert á Milli

**A/N: Change of plans, THIS should be the second to last chapter. I might to decide to do an epilogue after the next one, but that depends on how it plays out. I wanted to combine this one with the finale, but I didn't like how it ran together and I thought it would be a bit cleaner and easier to read this way.**

 **A lot of flashbacks/backstory in the chapter, so prepare for some time-hopping!**

Her hand was bleeding. She lifted it to her face and tried to find the source. When had she cut herself?

/

 _"Mommy wake up! Wake up!" The child was screaming now as she shook the sleeping woman. "Daddy got hurt! Mr. Barry_ _fell_ _in the water! We have to help them!"_

 _Still, her mother's eyes did not open. Molly sniffled and stood up straight. She wiped the tears from her cheek, but found that her face became even damper. Looking down, she let out a small gasp when she saw the bright red liquid._

 _"I'm hurt! Mommy! I'm hurt!" She cried out, throwing herself on the mattress next to Annie and clung to her. "I need a band aid!"_

 _The blanket beneath her was wet, but warm. She closed her eyes and burrowed further into her mother's side. She knew by now that the blood wasn't her own, but she still quietly pleaded for the woman beside her to wake up._

 _She didn't like being alone._

/

"Flynn?" Her voice was hoarse from overuse. She refrained from shouting, not wanting to draw any attention. "Flynn! Buddy, come out now! We can play in the snow as soon as there's enough of it."

/

 _Her heart was pounding in her chest as she ran from one room to the next. Most all of the doors were closed, but she had to be sure._

 _"Flynn? Flynny Bear! This isn't funny anymore." She checked her watch. Nick would be home any minute. "We need to go in our room now Bubba! Daddy doesn't want us to bother him while he's working."_

 _She paused when she heard a small grunt come from the bathroom across from the nursery. She had checked there already, but not hard enough apparently. Her feet were practically silent as she double-backed and dashed towards the cracked door. With a heavy sigh, she collapsed against the wall just inside the room._

 _The fire-headed rascal was poking his sweet little face through the shower curtain and giggling at the terror on his mommy's face._

 _"Oh my God!" Molly growled, lurching forward and snatching him into her arms. "You are lucky you're so cute!" She tickled his tummy and wasted no time in hurrying into the room she shared with her son._

 _The six-month-old was crawling and pulling himself up with ease by now. The day before, he had even taken a couple of steps. Molly quickly knocked him back down on his play mat when it happened though. She wasn't ready for him to be that mobile yet._

/

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" A shrill voice called from across the parking lot.

The agents were just finishing up with their assessment of the car when the nurse began shouting at them. They remained still as the short, rather portly, woman scurried their way. She waved her arms about as though they could have possibly missed her in her neon scrubs.

"That woman...General Laramie's daughter..." The nurse bent over and placed her hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath. She gestured wildly behind herself. "One of my girls...saw her running out...the back door..."

Before the last words left her mouth, the group took off. Even Elizabeth ran in her Prada Boots.

/

 _"What do you mean you're taking her away?" She jumped up from the divan beneath her office window and placed her hands on her hips._

 _"We're not_ _ **taking her away**_ _, we're relocating ma'am." Laramie's voice was flat as he rolled his eyes._

 _Elizabeth decided not to make note of his blatant disregard of her position and focused on the more important matter at hand. "And you have to take Molly with you?" She had spent the last six months getting to know the timid child and she was terrified to see her go._

 _"That's how guardianship works." Laramie toyed with the hand in his hands. "The girl is my ward and she goes where I go."_

 _"And is that what_ _ **Molly**_ _wants?" The Ambassador loathed the giant man before her. He only spoke to Molly when he was barking orders at her and he rarely used her name. She was just an asset to him. "She might want to stay here."_

 _The General scoffed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, as though this conversation were beneath him. "As a mother, I'd think you would know that it's not about what the child wants." He raised a brow at her. "We leave on Sunday. She'll be over to say goodbye Saturday evening. We'll be waiting in the car, so she will only have a few minutes."_

 _Before she could get another word out, he was gone._

 _Elizabeth sucked in a breath and ducked her head. Emily was in Prague with her father until the following Tuesday. She wouldn't even get to say goodbye._

 _She was going to be furious._

/

They were still about forty-five minutes out. It would have taken them twice as long to make the trip, but JJ drove and she had a shocking amount of lead in her foot.

Rossi, who had long since gotten over the shock of the blonde's road rage, shook his head as he scrolled through the forms that Morgan just sent to their tablets. "This man made her life a living hell. He robbed her of what was left of her childhood and forced her into a dangerous career." He summarized before staring out at the road-which was mostly a blur of black and yellow. "Why would he think that assigning Molly as his Power of Attorney is a good idea?"

"Probably because he assumed that she would have no issues with ending his life." JJ said. She had given it quite a bit of thought as well. "I mean, I'm sure he never expected any visits, especially from Molly. But he wanted to know that when the time came and they found a way to contact her, that she would make the call to pull the plug."

Dave smirked at the signatures below the account numbers and written instructions. Molly hadn't missed a single detail. "He didn't realize just how vindictive he made her." He mused. "I hope he lives another twenty years."

Never did they think that they'd wish for an Unsub (because that's what Laramie was in their eyes) to have more time. But if it meant he got to suffer that much longer, than it was well worth it.

/

 _The mug of freshly brewed coffee warmed his hand as he stood on the front porch, staring out at the falling snow. A patrol car was creeping its way up the driveway, its headlights bounced up and down as it rolled over the rocks and branches in its path._

 _Dave smiled tightly when it finally pulled in front of the house. He didn't know if the passengers behind the tinted windows saw him, but he wanted to be a calming presence regardless._

 _JJ climbed out first and she quickly turned to help Molly slide from her seat between Emily and herself._

 _The whole team had gone to the hospital at first. They wanted to be with the grieving mother as she made final arrangements for her son's body. And they wanted to be there for Prentiss too. Though she had never had a personal relationship with her nephew, it was obvious that the loss was affecting her as well._

 _But when the coroner told them that only three people could go into the room-even after badges were flashed-they decided that it was best to give them some space. The two female agents were the obvious choice for Molly's support system. And when Emily silently insisted that Hotch take the team to the safe house, he had to relent._

 _Rossi was still slightly amused by the Unit Chief's clenched fists and set jaw. It went without saying that his not-so-secret-girlfriend had him wrapped around her finger._

 _His beguilement disappeared when he saw the frail woman flanked by his fellow agents. Her face was drawn and her teeth were clasped over her lower lip in an obvious attempt to keep another bout of sobs in._

 _It was his intention to let them pass without speaking, but when Molly paused at the foot of the porch steps and turned to stare at the mountain just beyond the forest that surrounded them, his heart clenched._

 _"Come on Hun." JJ whispered, rubbing her back. "We don't want you to freeze."_

 _Still no movement._

 _"Go on in." Rossi told her, throwing a look to Prentiss as well. "I can keep her company. Sometimes the cold feels nice."_

 _Emily was hesitant for only a moment. But her face softened and she nodded. She knew that smothering her sister-in-law was only going to make things worse. She followed JJ into the house with one last squeeze on Molly's shoulder. 'I'm here' the gesture silently told her._

 _Once it was just the two of them outside in the snow, Dave handed the mug he had yet to sip from to the woman. "I usually take it black, but the whiskey inside seemed to be a suitable condiment after our afternoon."_

 _He was making light of the situation, but he knew from experience that sometimes that was the best approach. And when Molly took the cup and rested it against her chin-inhaling the aroma of coffee a liquor-he felt his body relax._

 _They stood in silence, watching white specks float from the charcoal sky and dance towards the pure white ground. It was almost cleansing to see the filthy mud blanketed and hidden away._

 _"I'm kind of cold." Her hoarse whisper startled him._

 _Dave moved up to the top porch step and motioned towards the door. "We can go inside. I think Reid was getting a fire going." He offered, tilting his head when she didn't budge from her spot._

 _Her blue eyes were filled with tears as she turned her head to look up at him. "That was the last thing he said to me." She whispered, shrugging lightly as though she were giving up. "He was cold. And I had no way to help him."_

 _For the first time, Rossi realized that she wasn't wearing her thick down jacket. And he immediately knew that it was with Flynn, wherever he was._

 _"He's warm now." He assured her, reaching out to touch her arm. He could feel her icy skin through the two layers of thermal sleeves. "He's warm and happy and he knows that you would have laid down your life to make sure that was the case."_

 _And though she didn't respond to his words, with neither a look nor a nod, he knew he was heard. Because at that point in anyone's life, all words of comfort were absorbed._

/

They spread out through the woods.

Reid and Morgan took the left trail, Emily and her mother took the right, and Hotch took the middle area without a beaten path. They had opted not to call out to Molly. If she wanted to be found, they would have her on a jet back to Quantico by now.

"Boot print! Boot print!" Elizabeth's shaky voice stopped Emily in her tracks. She stumbled back to where her mother had stopped and followed the trembling finger pointing to the imprint in the mud.

"Could be her." She said, trying to remain patient with the stubborn Ambassador. "This could be a common area though. Let's keep going."

She moved onward, all the while knowing that this had to be the way Molly went. She wouldn't give Elizabeth the satisfaction of admitting that though. Even in their most trying times, she could _not_ allow her mother to be right.

The three groups met up in a small opening. They exchanged similar looks, each giving a silent report. _They didn't find her_.

Elizabeth stated that she found a footprint, eliciting an eye roll from her daughter.

"That's good." Hotch nudged Prentiss surreptitiously. "We must be on the right track. Let's move."

/

The field was empty and quiet. Trees surrounding the area casted shade on almost every inch of ground but the very center. Only a little bit of sunshine remained behind the white and gray clouds, but it was enough to cast light on the little circle.

Her hands were cold, but she'd left her gloves in her backpack-which was still sitting on top of the shed. She could feel the blood dripping down her palm and it was warm for a second before it was chilled by the air.

"Flynn?" She wasn't raising her voice anymore and she had stopped genuinely searching. She simply stood there, repeating his name over and over, knowing that if she stopped she would be giving up on him.

Across the clearing, there was another trail that lead further into the woods. She saw no harm in wandering over to it, just for the sake of trying. As she got closer, she heard a sound that made her chest tighten. It was oddly soothing and had always been something she'd been drawn to.

She stepped over a few logs and through some overgrown vines. It took a few minutes to untangle her hair from a branch of low-hanging thorns, but when she stood up straight she saw it. Fast and majestic.

The rushing waters of the river almost slowed down in her presence. They seemed to beckon to her. Pleading that she jump in.

It had been so long since she had gone swimming.

/

 _The robe was thin and threadbare, but if covered her where she needed to be covered._

 _Running a towel through her soaked hair, contemplating when she should schedule to have it cut again, she padded across the hall towards the nursery._

 _She showered every afternoon at three. It was during Flynn's naptime and it gave her plenty of time to tidy up downstairs and prepare Nick's dinner. The schedule never changed, even the menu was unwavering-on Thursdays she made meatloaf and mashed potatoes._

 _A noise came from downstairs just as she placed her hand on the doorknob. Prepared to ignore it-sometimes Nick's buddy's came over to raid their fridge-Molly opened the door._

 _But as soon as she noticed the empty crib, the noise below turned into a wail._

 _And she had never moved so fast in her life._

 _She took the stairs three at a time, only stumbling once, before landing at the bottom. Her feet slid against the linoleum of the first floor, but she was unfazed. All she could see were the three men surrounding the playpen in the center of the living room._

 _Flynn was nearly ten months old. He was walking, talking (in very small fragments), eating solid foods, and sleeping through the night. Most importantly, he recognized his mother. And when he looked through the netting of his current prison and saw her, his eyes widened and he held out two chubby arms._

 _"Maw...maw-maw!" He whimpered, pushing himself to his feet and grasping the light blue edge of the pen._

 _"Molly, go upstairs." Nick rubbed his brow with the back of his arm in exasperation. It had been the first thing he'd said to her in months._

 _Of course, she didn't listen. Instead, she stepped closer. "What's going on?" Her eyes flitted from her husband, to her baby. Then to_ _Caspbury_ _on the left. And back to her baby. Then to Ellison to the right. And back to her baby._

 _No matter what, she made sure to keep her focus on Flynn, because his gaze was unwavering. He had been sobbing until she got down there. But as soon as he caught sight of her, he was quiet and fixated. Not even a year old and he had an unwavering faith in her._

 _She wouldn't let him down._

 _"Darling." Nick's smile was as off-putting by the term of endearment. Even when he was a good man and wonderful boyfriend, not once did they resort to pet names. They were always 'Nick and Molly'. "Go upstairs. We've got him."_

 _"Why?" She stuttered, shaking her head. "Since when do you_ _ **have**_ _him?"_

 _"He's my son, Molly." There was that bitter sneer she knew so well. "I have just as much right to him as you do!"_

 _"What's his middle name?"_

 _"What?"_

 _Molly crossed her arms, taking another two steps. "His middle name. What's your son's middle name?"_

 _Nick scoffed. "Why the hell should I care?" He shouted, raising his arms up from his sides._

 _That was when she saw the overhead light bounce off of something shiny in his left hand. It was small, but unmistakable. Pointing with a shaky finger, she leveled a glare at him. "Why do you have that?" She demanded. "Why do you have your knife near him?"_

 _The butter knives and plastic cutlery were even locked up, far out of her curious infant's reach. In the rare events where she spoke to her brooding spouse, she always made it clear that he needed to keep his weapons locked away. And when he obliged, she naively thought it was because a small part of him cared about their son's well-being._

 _He didn't answer her question. Instead he lowered his head, let out a deep breath, and lifted his eyes to stare her down. "Go upstairs Molly." He said between clenched teeth. "I won't tell you again."_

 _"Not without Flynn." She remained calm. In the past year, not once had he succeeded in intimidating her. That sure as hell wasn't going to change when he was holding a knife over her son._

 _It happened fast. More words could have been exchanged, but she blocked them from her memory if they had._ _Caspbury_ _came at her with his gun drawn, but before he could level it at her head, she lifted her leg and kicked it from his hand._

 _She caught the glock before it hit the ground and fired two shots. One between Ellison's eyes before he could fire his own weapon and another in_ _Caspbury's_ _temple._

 _Nick, who had seen the extent of his wife's work, wasn't really stunned by the display. He pulled out his own gun and pointed it at Flynn, who was now wailing._

 _"One more move and-" He didn't finish the sentence._

 _A bullet through the eye was the best way to shut someone up._

 _Before he even hit the ground, Molly was running across the room and scooping Flynn out of the playpen. The screaming boy had a small spray of blood on the back of his chubby neck and in his curly hair._

 _"Oh sweetie...Shh...It's okay." The mother soothed, kissing the side of his head repeatedly. "Did you get all messy? I'm sorry. We can do bath time early."_

 _She turned and moved back towards the staircase without sparing her husband another glance._

/


	11. Myndi ekki vilja það með öðrum hætti

**A/N: Last one before the Epilogue. Please read and review! Thanks again** **rmpcmfan** **and** **thehecticglow** **for your kind words!**

/

"I wish I could have learned." He threw a small twig into the rushing water below. His voice wasn't sad or disappointed. Just a little wistful if nothing else.

Molly found him sitting on top of a dam made of logs and mud. The materials of it suggested that it hadn't been made by beavers-they stuck to smaller branches and rocks-but it wasn't a product of the city either. It was more than likely constructed by some local kids who were bored one weekend.

She arched a brow when she stepped onto it. It was quite sturdy.

Flynn, still in his hat and heavy coat, swung himself around and dangled his feet over the tiny waterfall that trickled through the cracks of the wood. The sound was peaceful to both of them.

"It's not that great." Molly told him, moving carefully across until she was able to lower herself into the seated position. "Your hair gets all wet and your skin dries up." She opened and closed her fists as if to demonstrate. The dried blood on her palm cracked from the disturbance.

Her chest tightened when he stuck out his lower lip ever so slightly. "It just would have been fun I guess." He murmured running the back of his hand under his nose. "I mean, I love our house, but I've always wanted to swim."

Molly sighed and turned to stare at the river flowing beneath them. The dam was more of a decoration at this point. The powerful waters had long since forced their way through the base and rushed out over the rocks, continuing their journey south.

His words rang in her head. She had always longed to go swimming when she lived in Iceland. Of course she had learned how to do so when her father threw her into the icy lake behind their cabin. 'Survival Training' he had called it-she had to be prepared for every situation. After she left to go live with the Malloys, they were too far out into the country and had no access to pools or lakes.

Ironically, her chance came when she was taken in by Laramie. Of course the opportunity wasn't presented by the General himself, but by the Prentiss'. Their large heated indoor pool was essentially her home every Saturday from 2 to 5. She would only stop when Neil barged through the back door with a plate of shish kabobs or some other delicacy prepared on his fancy grill.

It was the only time she got to experience 'normal' in her childhood. And she hated herself for not giving Flynn that same chance.

"I'm sorry buddy." She whispered, picking at a group of dead leaves that had fallen from the tree tops onto the dam. They crinkled into dust between her fingertips.

"Can we go swimming now?" His eyebrows arched and he nodded towards the water below.

Her mouth opened to form an argument-absolutely not! It was far too dangerous _and_ cold! But the look on his sweet face did something to her rational mind.

/

Emily saw the same boot prints as before. They were in the clearing about a mile into the woods. She knew who they belonged to and her stomach dropped.

She was being careless. She wasn't even trying to hide her tracks. Something was wrong.

Hotch and the rest of the group must have seen them too, because they were all gathered around now, staring at the ground. She heard Morgan speak-probably to JJ or Rossi-giving them their exact location.

"We're getting close." He was saying. "She's on foot."

Not looking back, Prentiss moved onwards, towards the trees. She was tempted to start yelling out, but resisted. There was still protocol to follow.

"Why did she come out here?" Elizabeth huffed grasping Spencer's arm as the went after her daughter. The stiletto heels of her boots were sinking into the damp earth with each step she took, so she was relying on a little extra support.

The young man who was kind enough to be her human walking-stick shrugged and made sure she saw the group of loose rocks they were approaching. "If I were to venture a guess, I'd say she was at her wit's end." He stated simply. "She's spent weeks avenging this group that has essentially ruined her adult life and she finished off by inflicting more torture onto the man who destroyed her early life. For someone like her, it should have been a nice release, but now she probably has time to reflect on her reason for doing all of this."

"Flynn?" The Ambassador's voice was distant. She was still adjusting to the loss of the boy she never got to meet.

Reid ducked his head and moved a low hanging branch out of her way as she stepped by. "Yeah." He sighed.

/

She had taken off her boots and jacket, they would have made it difficult to navigate the icy waters. "Keep your hat on." She instructed, pulling her hair out of the ponytail that had loosened during her trek in the woods. As she scooped her long locks back into a tight bun, she continued. "And hold on to by belt loop..."

Her words disappeared into the crashing waves when she turned to the spot where Flynn had just been removing his own tiny shoes. Again, he was nowhere to be seen.

She had lost him again.

/

"You here that?" Derek held up his arm to stop Prentiss from moving on. She paused, along with everyone else, and tilted her head.

"Is that water?" Reid asked from the back of the group. He was still holding his arm up for Ambassador Prentiss to lean on. His question was rhetorical, because the sound of rushing water was unmistakable.

Morgan turned to Hotch who gave him a nod, gesturing that he move onward. This could have been a dead end, but there was only one way to find out. Emily wasn't going to turn back until she did everything in her power to find Molly.

"Reid, take the Ambassador back to the clearing to wait for JJ and Dave." Hotch ordered. "Unless you hear otherwise, bring them this way as soon as they arrive."

Spencer nodded and gestured to Elizabeth who looked like she was ready to resist, but relented after a hard look from her daughter. There was nothing she could do at this point anyway. She let out a sigh and accepted the young agent's hand with a quiet, "thank you".

When it was just the three of them again, Aaron turned to his two head agents. "We need to keep a sharp eye out." He said needlessly. "Her tracks could disappear if she went through the water, so watch them for as long as possible to predict a possible direction she is headed in."

In reality, he was stalling.

Molly Prentiss was skilled, even at her most unstable. That was made more and more evident with every amputated victim she left in her wake. He wouldn't put it past her to walk along the riverbed to conceal her tracks.

And he wouldn't put it past Emily to go into the river to follow her.

/

"Mom! Mom?"

His voice came from behind her, below her, above her, and every other direction. It never sounded from the same spot twice. More than once, she would stumble towards the edge of the dam, hoping to catch sight of the bright red hat.

"F-Flynn?" She whispered, her eyes flickered down to stare at the foamy gray water crashing against the rocks below. Her hands had long since clenched into fists and were shaking at her sides.

Why did he keep running from her?

"Mommy!"

The terror in his voice had her moving to the rocky area to the right of the bed. She lurched forward, finding her right foot caught in between two of the jagged logs she had just been sitting on. "No...no..." She whimpered, yanking and pulling, trying desperately to dislodge herself.

"Help! Mommy!"

His tiny pale hand came from the water just ahead. It reached desperately for a jagged boulder, but slipped off of it immediately.

"FLYNN!" Her throat felt as though it ripped from the sheer force of the voice that broke through it. But she didn't pay it any mind. She twisted her body and pulled up her pants leg, to loosen the straps that attached the titanium prosthetic to her thigh. In the past, it had always taken her a good three or four minutes to remove the contraption, but this time she had it off in fifteen seconds flat.

If it had been another situation, Molly would have found her appearance humorous. She had always found her stub of a leg quite hilarious. When they were in love, she would club Nick with it in bed, just as he was dozing off. That was when she still had her wooden prosthesis, so she couldn't sleep with it. Her fiance was initially uncomfortable with the half-limb plowing into his gut night after night, but when he saw that she was amused by it, he took it in stride.

Now, she just prayed that her pathetic excuse for a leg could hold up in the treacherous waters below.

Her child needed her.

She wouldn't let him down this time.

"Molly!"

The voice stopped her just after she climbed up onto her left foot, balancing precariously on rickety dam.

Emily was standing by the tree line with her boss and Morgan. They were frozen in spot, staring at her as though she were a mirage. For a second, she saw Agent Hotchner's hand hover over his gun, probably out of habit, but he moved it away as soon as he realized what he'd done.

"Flynn!" She heard the tears in her voice, but she didn't care. She pointed shakily at the rocks her son had just been clamoring for.

Morgan looked to Hotch, his brows furrowed. "Did she just say Flynn?"

Prentiss knew what was happening though. She was having a mental break and she saw her son in the water. It wouldn't have been the first time that a grieving parent saw their deceased child reaching out to them. "Molly! We can help him, but you need to get over here!" She reasoned, stepping closer to the dam. They were still twenty yards away. She wouldn't be able to get over there in time to stop her. "He's closer to us. If you go from there, you'll only injure yourself."

Molly was ready to take her advice. She wouldn't be able to do anything if she cracked her head open. But immediately the decision was made for her.

"Mom! Please!" Flynn cried out. He was further away now. He was going to be lost again if she didn't hurry.

"Over there! Emmy! Meet me there!" She shouted, pointing to the foaming waters just past the agents. She jumped into the river without hesitation.

And immediately regretted her decision.

 _Holy hell! Holy hell! Holy hell!_ Her mind was screaming as she hit the rocks that sat less than five feet beneath the surface of the water. Her leg, the left one obviously, slammed into something hard and sharp and the shoulder that was still riddled with shrapnel holes jerked back at an odd angle when it connected with the water.

When she pulled herself above the surface, she strained her neck to peer over the cresting waves. But every time she was able to maneuver herself forward an inch or two, she was shoved back under.

Aaron grabbed onto Emily the second Molly jumped. They were obviously going to save her, but he couldn't allow her to dive in while blinded with panic.

"Oh god!" Elizabeth's voice came from behind them and he knew that the rest of his team had arrived. "Agent Hotchner! We have to get her!"

"I know that ma'am, but..." He was just turning to give her a quick rundown of their typical rescue protocol, but the arm he'd been holding onto wrenched itself free of his grasp as soon as he was distracted. "Emily!"

His voice was echoed by both Elizabeth's and JJ's as they watched Prentiss charge into the water.

She was immediately pushed back by the strong current, but she dug the heels of her boots into mud and rocks as she trudged onward. Molly was pushed under three or four times before she disappeared completely.

Hotchner and Rossi ran over to the dam and made their way across it to the opposite shore. It was closer to where Molly had landed, so they wanted to be nearby when she was pulled out. Morgan hopped along the rocks a few yards downstream, in case Emily lost her footing and was taken by the river. Reid and JJ held onto Elizabeth, as she had been the one to run for the river when she saw her daughter go in.

They couldn't have anyone else in there.

Prentiss shuddered when her arm came out of the water and met the icy air. The initial shock of jumping into a Colorado River in the winter time had worn off and now she was frozen to the bone. But she ignored the feeling, pushing it away into one of her many boxes, and shoved her hands back under the swirling grays and whites.

She was close to where she had last seen Molly's red hair. The desperate mother had pushed herself at least fifty feet away from the dam, using every ounce of strength left in her to save the ghost of her son.

Emily let out a cry of frustration when she was knocked back by another wall of frigid water. Hotch yelled something, probably begging her to switch off with Morgan, but she blocked him out. He knew as well as she did that there was no time for that. It had been nearly two minutes since Molly had gone under.

Pushing herself away from the large rock she'd slammed into, Prentiss bit back another groan and used a low hanging branch to pull her tired body back towards the area she needed to be in.

But when she made it that five feet, she felt nothing. No Molly, lodged in between stones on the riverbed. Emily had turned to Morgan, who was still keeping a vigilant watch on the water rushing towards him.

She hadn't drifted off. She wasn't where she had gone under. Where the hell...?

"Emily!" Her mother's choked voice broke through her addled mind.

Using a rock for leverage, Prentiss glanced over her shoulder to see Elizabeth practically yanking Reid and JJ into the water as she pointed to a spot on the other side.

Hotch and Dave saw the object that caught her attention first, but Emily was closer. And since she was heading downriver now, she let the water half-carry her to the thicket of vines and rock formations just off of the shore.

Molly was lying face down, her navy coat tangled in the stones, keeping her in place.

"Hey...hey." Emily winced when she collided with a boulder to make herself stop, and crawled up next to the prone form of her sister-in-law. Her hands slid against the ice and mud, but she was able to right herself enough to pull Molly up and out of the water.

By then, Rossi and Aaron were there to help her as she rolled over the weighed down body. "She's not breathing." Prentiss noted, sniffling, and half-heartedly shoving Hotch when he pulled her completely onto the shore. "I have to...I have to help her! She's not breathing!"

Aaron nodded and pushed her to sit on a fallen log a few feet away. "Let us take care of it." He ordered, keeping his voice as firm as his gaze. He never liked taking that tone with her, but she had just jumped into a river against his command. He couldn't let her waste her currently limited breath resuscitating the unconscious woman.

Morgan had made his way to their side and was edging along the thin strip of land between the water and the trees, while JJ and Reid were assisting Elizabeth across the dam. The stubborn Ambassador refused to stay away.

"I can't feel a pulse." Dave muttered, unzipping Molly's coat and yanking the three flannel and thermal shirts away from her pale abdomen. He looked to Aaron who had started to lower himself down beside the woman's head-one arm was still outstretched to keep Prentiss in place. "Aaron, you do the compressions?"

He said it as a question, but he wasn't giving him a choice in the matter. Rossi knew his arms weren't strong enough to exert enough pressure.

And as the group convened, the two men began to perform CPR on Molly.

Her eyes weren't opening, but she could see. She saw herself as Agents Hotchner and Rossi tried to revive her-Agent Jareau knelt down and held her head in place to make it easier for the latter to blow into her mouth. She saw Emily and Elizabeth watching from the log a few yards back. She saw awkward Dr. Reid standing over them with his hands shoved in his pockets and swaying from one foot to the other. Agent Morgan alternated between folding his hands behind his head and swinging them around to rub one across his mouth.

Molly felt a cold, hard pressure expand from her chest down to her fingers. It was as though she were stuck in a dream on time lapse, standing over people who couldn't even see her. The sight of her own body lying at her feet, was less daunting than it should have been.

"Mom, you okay?" Flynn was next to her now, watching the scene with a tilted head and wrinkled nose. "Why's that guy kissing you?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but found that her throat was blocked and her eyes burned. Before she could even raise her hands to her face, a bright light filled her vision. The sudden sensation of falling hit her, and she could no longer see the agents or her son.

That was when she finally felt pain.


	12. Epilogue

" _Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people's."_  
 _-_ _ **Anaïs**_ _ **Nin**_

 _ **/**_

One-by-one, they boarded the jet with heavy feet and droopy eyes. It was nearly three in the morning and they had a long flight ahead of them. That is, if they were able to get off of the ground in the first place. The pilot told them that traffic control was flip-flopping on the flying conditions with the blizzard that was forming. In the last hour alone, they switched between yes and no at least eight times.

The team didn't care. They felt that sitting in the seats and waiting would somehow get them home quicker.

Garcia had flown in on a commercial flight that morning, to join her team. She was bored in Little Rock and she didn't want to return to Quantico without them. Hotch was more than happy to cover the expense himself if Strauss made a stink. He had always been superstitious about arriving back with the same amount of people they left with.

Although-he rolled his head to glance at the couch to his right-he hoped there wasn't anything in the imaginary superstition handbook about coming back with more than they left with. Elizabeth Prentiss would have refused going back to Virginia in a regular plane-even if it were in first class. So of course, no one suggested it.

They would just have to have a crammed flight home. If anything, it would be cozy.

Once nearly everyone was seated, Emily poked her head in to inventory what spots were left. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw the seats next to and across from Aaron were vacant.

"Okay...easy does it." She whispered, clutching Molly's hand and helping her up the steps that led to the entrance. "You feeling okay?"

It had been a repeated question for the past three days. More than half the time, it went unanswered-because Molly could only say _'No, I feel like hell'_ so many times-but the redhead always tried to acknowledge her with a brief nod or a tight smile.

Five minutes. That's how long it took to bring her back to life.

For five minutes, Hotch and Rossi performed rigorous CPR on a woman who for all intents and purposes, should have been dead. But they were persistent. Not once did any of the team let it enter their minds that she wasn't going to survive. For some reason, that just never became an option.

An ambulance met them in the parking lot of the Veteran's Home, and took her to a nearby hospital-Molly nearly bolted off of the gurney when one of the paramedics suggested that she be treated at the retirement facility. But Hotch, who helped Emily push the terrified woman back on the cart, flashed his badge and insisted that they go elsewhere.

They would not make Molly in the same building as Laramie again. Her initial visit with him had done far too much damage to her psyche.

Surgeons repaired the damaged joints and ligaments in her shoulder-they had been stunned to see that only a couple of pieces of shrapnel remained implanted in the bones, when there should have been at least fifty more shards. Her ankle had a couple of minor breaks from her pencil dive into the shallow river, but they allowed her to travel back with a boot and have the operation to repair it done in Virginia.

Otherwise, she only had some cuts and bruises (a lot of which were on her ribs). She wasn't even hypothermic, as Emily had been. The doctors said it was due to the resistance she had built up from living in the Alaskan Tundra.

"Damn it." Molly grunted when they were halfway down the aisle. She placed her hands on the seat-tops on either side of them and wiggled her right leg. The squeak of metal filled their ears as she tried to adjust the damaged prosthetic.

Reid had grabbed it from the dam after the rest of the team were hurrying ahead with the barely conscious Molly in Derek's arms. It was lodged between two of the larger and gnarlier branches, but after some maneuvering (and a few tiny cuts with his pocket knife) the limb was freed from its prison.

Molly had actually laughed out loud when he came into her hospital room with it. A few of his teammates were amused by the sight as well. He had just looked so uncomfortable holding the titanium leg in his arms.

But when she put it on that morning, while waiting for her discharge papers, she actually looked up at the young genius and smiled softly. _"Thanks."_ She sighed. Though it was short, it was genuine. She really didn't know what she would have done if she'd had to travel with a brace and a stump.

As soon as the debilitated contraption was adjusted, Molly straightened up and nodded to Emily who was frozen in her tracks. The whole team kept vigilance on her for the past 72 hours, as though if she were left on her own for more than three seconds, she would run off and cut off the first arm that reached out to stop her.

In reality, she was exhausted. More than anything else in the world she wanted to finish her list. But her body-and mind-wouldn't allow it.

"Sit here." Emily sat Molly in the seat across from Aaron before edging past him to plop down in the spot by the window.

Rossi, who had been reading his book quietly in the fourth seat, didn't even lift his eyes when they sat down. Prentiss was relieved by his discretion. She loved her team with her whole heart, but they were all prone to staring when they were at a loss for words.

And with Molly, it was impossible to even come _close_ to the right words.

Hotch reached under the table and clutched Emily's hand. It was still cold. She had only spent one night in the hospital being treated for hypothermia. It was luckily a mild case, but it still scared him. All thoughts of scolding her for her actions in the river fell from his head when he visited her in her heated room.

She was pale with purple and red splotches marring her arms and neck, but she still looked like his Prentiss. His Emily. And he could never be stern with his Emily.

Silence filled the small space for ten minutes. Muffled voices from whatever slasher flick Garcia and Morgan were watching came from their shared set of headphones and every once in a while Dave or Spencer would flip a page in their books, but it was all white noise to them.

"Oh, thank God!" Derek couldn't help but exclaim when the jet finally began taxiing.

The rest of the group murmured their respective sounds of relief, only half-listening to the pilots announcement regarding their ETA and weather conditions.

Prentiss leaned back against the headrest and took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. She only opened them when she felt the unmistakable lurch in her stomach that only came with takeoff. But instead of rolling her head to stare at the town they were departing-she always loved watching the city lights fade beneath the clouds-her gaze fell on the sleepy redhead sitting diagonally from her.

If she used what little imagination that remained in her exhausted mind, she could pretend that Molly was just a regular sister-in-law. She was so normal looking-despite the lacerations on her face and the sling holding her arm. No one would have ever guessed that she had just spent nearly two months amputating limbs across the nation.

"We need to continue our discussion." Elizabeth's voice cut through her thoughts. Apparently, they disturbed Molly as well. She cringed and opened her eyes in tiny slits to look from Emily to her mother. The Ambassador was propped on the corner edge of the couch with her elbows rested on her crossed knees. "About what happens next."

"Mother, please." Prentiss sighed, resisting the urge to bury her face in Aaron's shoulder.

"Please what?" Elizabeth demanded, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb JJ who was sleeping in the spot next to her. "Darling, we'll be landing in Virginia in just a few hours and we have no idea where she'll be going!"

"She'll stay with me."

"And what will she do while you're at work? Or away for a case?" The older woman tilted her head with pursed lips. "Who will watch her?"

"I'm an adult." Molly muttered, fully opening her eyes and leveling a look at her. "And I'm right here."

"Yes. Yes you are an adult." Elizabeth nodded. "You're an adult who just suffered from a severe psychotic break. Do really think that it's a good idea for you to be left alone more than forty-hours a week?"

"She won't be alone." Prentiss interceded. "She'll be with Sergio."

Molly's brows arched. "Who's Sergio?"

"Her cat." Rossi said, still not looking away from his novel.

"Oh Emily, for goodness sakes!" Elizabeth huffed and leaned back and rubbing her forehead. "This isn't a game!"

"Well, do you have any suggestions?" Emily demanded, moving her glower from Rossi to her mother.

"Yes. She can stay with me."

The familiar sound of silence filled the back area of the jet. Aaron bit back a smirk at the wide-eyed look of panic that crossed Molly's face. She didn't even try to hide it as she looked between the two Prentiss women.

Emily stuttered a few times before clearing her throat and starting over. "Um, I'm sorry. With you?" She leaned around Hotch to get a better look at her matriarch, who had surely lost her mind.

"Yes, why not?" Elizabeth appeared to be offended with the skepticism in the faces that surrounded her. Even Dr. Reid, who had turned around in his seat at the front of the craft to listen in, appeared shocked. "I am her mother-in-law."

"You threatened to have me thrown in a Federal Penitentiary if I ever stepped foot in Virginia." Molly reminded her.

The Ambassador's eyes flickered back and forth as she tried to recall said threat. "Well, I obviously retract that embargo." She said flippantly. Her shoulders sagged and she decided to take a different approach. "I'm semi-retired, I have nowhere to be, and the house is large and quite secure. You can't tell me that it's not a better arrangement."

Emily cringed and considered her words. She absolutely hated it when her mother was right. As she looked up at Molly, she already felt guilty.

Molly groaned. She didn't have a choice in any of this. She knew that. If it weren't for her immunity-both diplomatic and CIA enforced-she would be on her way to a state run mental institution right now. Of course, she would be seeing a therapist twice a week for the next year and she was going to begin the overdue process of retiring from the Assassin's Unit. Emily had told her that they were going to give her as clean a slate as possible.

Knowing that she had won, Elizabeth smiled a genuine soft smile, at the young woman. "We can retire together darling."

They were meant to be sweet words of camaraderie, but they'd sounded vaguely threatening in Molly's ears.


End file.
